r  i 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


EVANGELINE. 


BY 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW, 


NEW  YORK: 
JOHN  B.  ALDEN,  PUBLISHER. 

1893. 


A  PRETTY  SURPRISE. 

This  pretty  volume  has  proved  a  delightful  sur 
prise  to  tens  of  thousands  of  readers;  we  hope  it 
may  yet  find  place  in  millions  of  homes. 

Though  sold  at  a  price  so  low,  it  is  fairly  char 
acteristic,  in  quality  and  price,  of  a  large  portion 
of  our  publications,  and  is  no  more  than  a  fair  il 
lustration  of  what  the  cooperation  of  book  buyers 
might  accomplish  for  nearly  all  books  that  are 
worth  buying;  see  particulars  in  last  pages  of  our 
catalogue. 

"  RICHER  THAN  CRCESUS." 

"  Now  the  only  Crcesus  that  I  envy  is  he  who  is 
reading  a  better  book  than  this,"  Philip  Gilbert 
Hanierton's  exclamation  when  reading  a  book 
which  delighted  him,  is  one  that  often  comes  to 
the  mind  of  the  book-lover  when  reveling  in  the 
riches  revealed  by  our  Catalogue.  It  presents  a 
great  number  of  the  choicest  books  of  the  world, 
at  the  lowest  prices  ever  known.  Our  new  Cata 
logue,  issued  twice  a  month,  128  pages  in  size,  is 
sent  post-paid  for  a  2-cent  stamp;  our  books  are  not 
sold  by  dealers;  order  direct  from  us.  Any  book 
published  supplied  on  the  most  favorable  terms  to 
be  had  any  where.  Address,  JOHN  B,  ALDEN, 
Publisher,  57  Eose  St.,  New  York. 

Copyright.  1892,  by  The  Elzevir  Co. 


PS 

X 

A 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


EVANGELINE. 

PART    THE    FIRST. 

PAGE. 

ILLUSTRATION  I.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 11 

"  The  murmuring'  pines  and  the  hemlocks, 
Bearded  with  moss,  and  in  garments  green." 

ILLUSTRATION  II.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 12 

"  Waste  are  those  pleasant  farms,  an^  the  farmers  forever  departed." 


ILLUSTRATION  III. — DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER..  13 

"  Solemnly  down  the  street  came  the  parish  priest,  and  the  children 
Paused  in  their  play  to  kiss  the  hand  he  extended  to  bless  them." 

ILLUSTRATION  IV.— DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 16 

'  Homeward  serenely  she  walked  with  God's  benediction  upon  her." 

ILLUSTRATION  V. — DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 17 

"  Firmly  builded  with  rafters  of  oak,  the  house  of  the  farmer 
Stood  on  the  side  of  a  hill  commanding  the  sea," 

ILLUSTRATION  VI. — DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 18 

"  Farther  down,  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  was  the  well  with  its  moss-grown 
Bucket,  fastened  with  iron,  and  near  it  a  trough  for  the  horses." 

ILLUSTRATION  VH.— DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 19 

"  Many  a  youth,  as  he  knelt  in  the  church  and  opened  his  missal, 
Fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  as  the  saint  of  his  deepest  devotion." 

ILLUSTRATION  VTU.— DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 20 

"  Father  Felicien, 

Priest  and  pedagogue  both  in  the  village,  had  taught  them  their  letters 
Out  of  the  selfsame  book,  with  the  hymns  of  the  church  and  the 
plain  song." 

ILLUSTRATION  IX.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 21 

'  There  at  the  door  they  stood,  with  wondering  eyes  to  behold  him 
Take  in  his  leathern  lap  the  hoof  of  the  horse  as  a  plaything." 

ILLUSTRATION  X.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 28 

"  Oft  in  the  barns  they  climbed  to  the  populous  nests  on  the  rafters." 

ILLUSTRATION  XL— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER , . . .  24 

"  Foremost,  bearing  the  bell,  Evangeline's  beautiful  heifer, 
Proud  of  her  snow-white  hide,  and  the  ribbon  that  waved  from  her 
collar." 


6  LIST  OF  ILL  USTRA  TION8. 

PAGE. 

ILLUSTRATION  XH. — DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER. 26 

"  Late,  with  the  rising  moon,  returned  the  wains  from  the  marshes? 
Laden  with  briny  hay,  that  tilled  the  air  with  its  odor." 

ILLUSTRATION  XIII.— DESIGNED  BY  JOHN  GILBERT 27 

"  '  Not  so  thinketh  the  folk  in  the  village,'  said  warmly,  the  blacksmith, 
Shaking  his  head,  as  in  doubt." 


ILLUSTRATION  XIV.— DESIGNED  BY  JOHN  GILBERT. 


"  More  than  a  hundred 
Children's  children  rode  on  his  knee,  and  heard  his  great  watch  tick." 

ILLUSTRATION  XV. — DESIGNED  BY  JOHN  GILBERT 34 

"In  friendly  contention  the  old  men 
Laughed  at  each  lucky  hit,  or  unsuccessful  manoeuvre." 


ILLUSTRATION  XVI.—  DESIGNEDLY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 36 

"  Many  a  farewell  word  and  sweet  good  night  on  the  door-step 
Lingered  long  in  Evangeline's  heart,  and  filled  it  with  gladness." 

ILLUSTRATION  XVIL—  DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 38 

"  For  Evangeline  stood  among  the  guests  of  her  father; 
Bright  was  her  face  with  smiles,  and  words  of  welcome  and  gladness 
Fell  from  her  beautiful  lips,  and  blessed  the  cup  as  she  gave  it." 

ILLUSTRATION  XVLU.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 39 

"  Now  from  the  country  around,  from  the  farms  and  the  neighboring 

hamlets, 
Came  in  their  holiday  dresses  the  blithe  Acadian  peasants." 

ILLUSTRATION  XIX. — DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 46 

"  Merrily,  merrily  whirled  the  wheels  of  the  dizzying  dances 
Under  the  orchard-trees  and  down  the  path  to  the  meadows." 

ILLUSTRATION  XX.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 41 

"  Without,  in  the  churchyard, 
Waited  the  women.    They  stood  by  the  graves,  and  hung  on  the 

head-stones 
Garlands  of  autumn-leaves  and  evergreens  fresh  from  the  forest." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXI.— DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 45 

"  Then,  all-forgetful  of  self,  she  wandered  into  the  village, 
Cheering  with  looks  and  words  the  disconsolate  hearts  of  the  women." 

ILLUSTRATION  YYTT. — DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BEXHAM 47 

"  Marching  in  gloomy  profession 
Followed  the  Ijng-imprisoned,  but  patient,  Acadian  farmers." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXHI. — DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 50 

"  Lowing  they  waited,  and  long,  at  the  well-known  bars  of  the  farmyard- 
Waited  and  looked  in  vain  for  the  voice  and  the  hand  of  the  milkmaid." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXIV.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 51 

''  Suddenly  rose  from  the  south  a  light,  as  in  autumn  the  blood-red 
Moon  climbs  the  crystal  walls  of  heaven,  and  o'er  the  horizon 
Titan-like  stretches  ite  hundred  hands  upon  mountain  and  meadow." 


LIST  OF  ILL  U8TRA  TIONS.  7 

PAGE 

ILLUSTRATION  XXV. — DESIGNED  BY  BJEKET  FOSTER 54 

"  Having  the  glare  of  the  burning  village  for  funeral  torches, 
But  without  bell  or  book,  they  buried  the  farmer  of  Grand-Pre." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXVI.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 55 

"  Then  recommenced  once  more  the  stir  arid  noise  of  embarking; 
And  with  the  ebb  of  that  tide  the  ships  sailed  out  of  the  harbor." 


PART    TH.E    SECOND. 

ILLUSTRATION  XXVII.— DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 56 

"  Long  among  them  was  seen  a  maiden  who  waited  and  wandered, 
Lowly  and  meek  in  spirit,  and  patiently  suffering  all  things. ;> 

ILLUSTRATION  XXVIII.— DESIGNED  BY  B-RKET  FOSTER 60 

"  Into  the  golden  stream  of  the  broad  and  swift  Mississippi, 
Floated  a  cumbrous  boat,  that  was  rowed  by  Acadian  boatmen." 


ILLUSTRATION  XXIX.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER. 


"  Now  through  rushing  chutes,  among  green  islands,  where  plume-like 
Cotton-trees  nodded  their  shadowy  crests,  they  swept  with  the  current." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXX.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 63 

"  Lovely  the  moonlight  wasas  it  glanced  and  gleamed  on  the  water." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXXI. — DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 65 

"  Resplendent  in  beauty,  the  lotus 
Lifted  her  golden  crown  above  the  heads  of  the  boatmen." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXXII.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 67 

Safely  their  boat  was  moored;  and  scattered  about  on  the  greensward, 
Tired  with  their  midnight  toil,  the  weary  travelers  slumbered." 


ILLUSTRATION  XXXIII.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER. 


"  Nearer,  and  ever  nearer,  among  the  numberless  islands, 
Dai-ted  a  light,  swift  boat,  that  sped  away  o'er  the  water." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXXIV.  —  DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER  ..............  71 

"  The  house  itself  was  of  timbers 
Hewn  from  the  cypress-tree,  and  carefully  fitted  together." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXXV.—  DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER  ................  ?3 

"  Suddenly  out  of  the  grass  :,he  long  white  horns  of  the  cattle 
Kose  like  flakes  of  foam  on  the  adverse  currents  of  ocean." 


ILLUSTRATION  XXXVI.—  DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 


"  '  Long  live  Michael,'  they  cried,  '  our  brave  Acadian  minstrel  I* 
As  they  bore  him  aloft  in  triumphal  procession." 

ILLUSTRATION  XXXVII.—  DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER  ..............  00 

"  With  horses,  and  guides,  and  companions, 
Gabriel  left  the  village,  and  took  the  road  of  the  prairies." 


ILLUSTRATION  XXXVIII.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER.. 


'  Into  this  wonderful  land,  at  the  base  of  the  Ozark  Mountains, 
Gabriel  far  had  entered,  with  hunters  and  trappere  behind  him." 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATION  & 

P-AGE. 


ILLUSTRATION  XXXLX.— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER  , 


"  Under  a  towering  oak,  that  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  village, 
Knelt  the  Black  Robe  chief  with  his  children." 

ILLUSTRATION  XL. — DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 90 

"  In  that  delightful  land  which  is  washed  by  the  Delaware's  waters, 
Guarding  in  sylvan  shades  the  name  of  Penn  the  apostle, 
Stands  on  the  banks  of  its  beautiful  stream  the  city  he  founded." 

ILLUSTRATION  XLL— DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 91 

"  Night  after  night,  when  the  world  was  asleep,  as  the  watchman  repeated, 
Loud,  through  the  gusty  streets,  that  all  was  well  in  the  city, 
High  at  some  lonely  window  he  saw  the  light  of  her  taper." 


ILLUSTRATION  XUL— DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 93 

"  Day  after  day,  in  the  gray  of  the  dawn,  as  slow  through  the  suburbs 
Plodded  the  German  farmer,  with  flowers  and  fruits  for  the  market, 
Met  he  that  meek,  pale  face,  returning  home  from  its  watchings." 

ILLUSTRATION  XLJII.— DESIGNED  BY  JANE  E.  BENHAM 95 

"  Through  the  hush  that  succeeded 

Whispered  a  gentle  voice,  in  accents  tender  and  saint-like, 
'Gabriel!  O  my  beloved!'  and  died  away  into  silence." 

ILLUSTRATION  XLIV.—  DESIGNED  BY  BIRKET  FOSTER 97 

"  Side  by  side,  in  their  nameless  graves,  the  lovers  are  sleeping, 
Under  the  humble  walls  of  the  little  Catholic  churchyard, 
In  the  heart  of  the  city." 

ijAJSTRATION  XLV. — DESIGNED  BY  BlRKET  FOSTER 98 

"  Maidens  still  wear  their  Norman  caps  and  their  kirtles  of  homespun, 
And  by  the  evening  fire  repeat  Evangeline's  story." 


EVANGELINE. 


THIS  is  the  forest    primeval.     The  | 

murmuring  pines  and  the  hemlocks, 
Bearded  with  moss,  and  in  garments 

green,  indistinct  in  the  twilight, 
Stand  like  Druids  of  eld,  with  voices 

sad  and  prophetic, 
Stand  like  harpers  hoar,  with  beards 

that  rest  on  their  bosoms. 
Loud  from   its    rocky  caverns,   the 

deep-voiced  neighboring  ocean 
Speaks,  and  in  accents  disconsolate 

answers  the  wail  of  the  forest. 


12  EVANGELINE. 

This  is  the  forest  primeval;  but  where  are  the  hearts  that 

beneath  it 
Leaped  like  the  roe,  when  he  hears  in  the  woodland  the 

voice  of  the  huntsman  ? 
Where  is  the  thatch-roofed  village,  the  home  of  Acadian 

farmers — 

Men  whose  lives  glided  on  like  rivers  that  water  the  wood 
lands, 
Darkened  by  shadows  of  earth,  but  reflecting  an  image  of 

heaven  ? 
Waste  are  those  pleasant  farms,  and  the  farmers  forever 

departed  1 
Scattered  like  dust  and  leaves,  when  the  mighty  blasts  of 

October 
Seize  them,  and  whirl  them  aloft,  and  sprinkle  them  far 

o'er  the  ocean. 
Naught  but  tradition  remains  of  the  beautiful  village  of 

Grand-Pre. 

Ye  who  believe  in  affection  that  hopes,  and  endures,  and  is 

patient, 
Ye  who  believe  in  the  beauty  and  strength  of   woman's 

devotion, 
List  to  the  mournful  tradition  still  sung  by  the  pines  of  the 

forest ; 
List  to  a  Tale  of  Love  in  Acadie,  home  of  the  happy. 


*  Waste  are  those  pleasant  tarn?,  and  the  farmers  forever  departed." 


EVANGELINE.  13 


.Solemnly  down  the  street  came  tue  parish  priest,  and  the  children 
Paused  in  their  play  to  kiss  the  hand  he  extended  to  bless  them." 


I. 

IN  THE  Acadian  land,    on  the  shores  of    the  Basin    of 

Minas, 

Distant,  secluded,  still,  the  little  village  of  Grand-Pre 
Lay  in  the  fruitful  valley.    Vast  meadows  stretched  to  the 

eastward, 
Giving  the  village  its  name,  and  pasture  to  flocks  without 

number. 
Dikes,  that  the  hands  of  the  farmers  had  raised  with  labor 

incessant, 
Shut  out  the  turbulent  tides;  but  at  stated   seasons  the 

flood-gates 
Opened,  and  welcomed  the  sea  to  wander  at  will  o'er  the 

meadows. 
West  and  south  there  were  fields  of  flax,  and   orchards 

and  cornfields 
Spreading  afar  and  unfenced  o'er  the  plain;  and   away  to 

the  northward 
Blomidon   rose,   and    the   forests    old,   and    aloft   on  the 

mountains 
Sea-fogs  pitched  their  tents,  and  mists  from  the  mighty 

Atlantic 
Looked  on   the  happy  valley,  but  ne'er  from  their  station 

descended. 
There,  in  the  niidst  of   its    farms,   reposed  the   Acadian 

village. 


14  EVANGELINE. 

Strongly  built  were  the  houses,  with  frames  of  oak   and 
of  chestnut, 

Such  as  the  peasants  of  Normandy  built  in  the   leign   of 
the  Henries. 

Thatched   were    the    roofs,    with     dormer-windows;    and 
gables  projecting 

Over  the  basement  below  protected  and  shaded  the  door 
way. 

There  in  the  tranquil  evenings  of  summer,  when   brightly 
the  sunset 

Lighted  the  village  street,  and  gilded  the  vanes  on   the 
chimneys, 

Matrons   and   maidens    sat  in   snow-white   caps    and    in 
kirtles 

Scarlet   and   blue  and    green,    with    distaffs   spinning  the 
golden 

Flax  for  the  gossiping  looms,  whose  noisy  shuttles  withit 
doors 

Mingled  their  sound  with  the  whir  of  the  wheels  and   the 
•songs  of  the  maidens. 

Solemnly  down  the  street  came  the  parish  priest,  and  the 
children 

Paused  in  their  play  to  kiss  the  hand  he  extended  to  bless 
them. 

Reverend   walked  he  among  them;  and  up  rose  matrons 
and  maidens, 

Hailing  his  slow  approach  with  words  of  affectionate  wel 
come. 

Then  came  the  laborers  home  from  the  field,  and  serenely 
the  sun  sank 

Down  to  his  rest,  and  twilight  prevailed.     Anon  from  the 
belfry 

Softly  the   Angelus  sounded,  and  over  the  roofs  of  the 
village 

Columns  of   pale  blue  smoke,   like  clouds  of  incense  as 
cending, 

V     Rose  from  a  hundred  hearths,  the  homes  of  peace  and  con 
tentment. 
•    Thus  dwelt  together  in  love  these  Dimple  Acadian  farmers — 

Dwelt  in  the  love  of  God  and  of  man.     Alike  were  they 
free  from 

Fear,  that  reigns  with  the  tyrant,  and  envy,  the  vice  of 
republics. 


SVANGEUXE.  15 

Neither  locks  had  they  to  their  doors,  nor  bars  to  their 
windows; 

But  their  dwellings  were  open  as  day  and  the  hearts  of  the 
owners ; 

There  the  richest  was  poor,  and  the  poorest  lived  in  abund 
ance. 

Somewhat  apart  from  the  village,  and  nearer  the  Basin  c' 

Minas, 

Benedict  Bellefontaine,  the  wealthiest  farmer  of  Grand-Pre, 
Dwelt  on   his  goodly  acres ;  and  with  him,  directing  his 

household, 
Gentle   Evangeline  lived,  his   child,  and  the  pride  of  the 

village. 
Stalworth  and  stately  in  form  was  the  man  of  seventy 

winters ; 

Hearty  and  hale  was  he,  an  oak  that  is  covered  with  snow- 
flakes  ; 
White  as  the  snow  were  his  locks,  and  his  cheeks  as  brown 

as  the  oak-leaves. 

Fair  was  she  to  behold,  that  maiden  of  seventeen  summers. 
Black  were  her  eyes  as  the  berry  that   grows  on  the  thorn 

by  the  way-side, 
Black,  yet  how  softly  they  gleamed  beneath   the  brown 

shade  of  her  tresses  ! 
Sweet  was  her  breath  as  the  breath  of  kine  that  feed  in  the 

meadows. 

When  in  the  harvest  heat  she  bore  to  the  reapers  at  noon 
tide 
Flagons  of  home-brewed  ale,  ah !  fair  in  sooth  was  the 

maiden. 
Fairer  was  she  when,  on  Sunday  morn,  while  the  bell  from 

its  turret 
Sprinkled  with  holy  sounds  the  air,  as  the  priest  with  his 

hyssop 
Sprinkles  the   congregation,  and   scatters  blessings  upon 

them, 
Down  the  long  street  she  passed,  with  her  chaplet  of  beads 

and  her  missal, 
tWearing  her   Norman  cap,  and  her,  kirtle  of  blue,  and  the 

ear-rings, 
Brought  in   the  olden  time  from   France,  and  since,  as  an 

heirloom, 


16 


EVANGELINE. 


Handed  down  from  mother  to  child,  through  long  gener 
ations. 

But  a  celestial  brightness — a  more  ethereal  beauty — 

Shone  on  her  face  and  encircled  her  form,  when,  after  con 
fession, 

Homeward  serenely  she  walked  with  God's  benediction 
upon  her. 


•Homeward  serenely  she  walked  with  God's  benediction  upon  her." 


When  she  had  passed,  it  seemed  like  the  ceasing  of  ex 

ouisite  music. 

Finmy  ouilded  with  rafters  of  oak,  the  house  of  the  farmer 
Stood  on  the  feide  of  a  hill  commanding  the  sea ;  and  a 

shady 


EVANGELINE. 


17 


Sycamore  grew  by  the  door,  with  a  woodbine  wreathing 

around  it. 
Rudely  carved  was  the  porch,  with  seats  beneath;  and  a 

footpath 


Firmly  builded  with  rafters  of  oak,  the  house  of  the  farmer 
Stood  on  the  side  of  a  hill  commanding  the  sea." 


Led  through  an  orchard  wide,  and  disappeared  in  the 
meadow. 

Under  the  sycamore-tree  were  hives  overhung  by  a  pent 
house, 

Such  as  the  traveler  sees  in  regions  remote  by  the  road 
side, 

.Built  o'er  a  box  for  the  poor,  or  the  blessed  image  of  Mary. 

Farther  down,  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  was  the  well  with 
its  moss-grown 

Bucket,  fastened  with  iron,  and  naar  it  a  trough  for  the 
horses. 


18 


EVANGELINE. 


Shielding  the  house   from   storms,  on  the  north,  were  the 

barns  and  the  farm-yard. 
There  stood  the  broad- wheeled  wains  and  the  antique  plows 

and  the  harrows ; 
There  were  the  folds  for  the  sheep ;  and  there,  in    his 

feathered  seraglio, 
Strutted  the  lordly  turkey,  and  crowed  the  cock,  with  the 

selfsame 
Voice  that  in  ages  of  old  had  startled  the  penitent  Peter. 


1  Farther  down,  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  was  the  well  with  its  moss-grown 
Bucket,  fastened  with  iron,  and  near  it  a  trough  for  the  horses." 


Bursting  with  hay  were  the  barns,  themselves  a  village. 
In  each  one 

Far  o'er  the  gable  projected  a  roof  of  thatch;  and  a  stair 
case, 

Under  the  sheltering  eaves,  led  up  to  the  odorous  corn-loft. 

There  too  the  dove-cot  stood,  with  its  meek  and  innocent 
inmates 

Murmuring  ever  of  love;  while  above  in  the  variant 
breezes 

Numberless  noisy  weathercocks  rattled  and  sang  of  mu 
tation. 


BVANQELINE. 


19 


Thus,  at  peace  with  God  and  the  world,  the  farmer  of 

Grand  Pre 
Lived  on  his  sunny  farm,  and  Evangeline  governed  his 

household. 


'  Many  a  youth,  as  he  knelt  in  the  church  and  opened  his  missal, 
Fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  as  the  saint  of  his  deepest  devotion." 


Mauy  a  youth,  as  he  knelt  in  the  church  and  opened  his 
missal, 

Fixed  his  eyes  upon  her,  as  the  saint  of  his  deepest  de 
votion  ; 

Happy  was  he  who  might  touch  her  hand  or  the  hem  of 
her  garment ! 

Many  a  suitor  came  to  her  door,  by  the  darkness  befriended, 

And  as  he  knocked  and  waited  to  hear  the  sound  of  her 
footsteps, 


20 


EVANGELINE. 


Knew  not  which  beat  the  louder,  his  heart  or  the  knockei 

of  iron  ; 

Or  at  the  joyous  feast  of  the  Patron  Saint  of  the  village, 
Bolder  grew,  and  pressed  her  hand  in  the  dance  as  he 

whispered 

Hurried  words  of  love,  that  seemed  a  part  of  the  music. 
But,  among  all  who  came,  young  Gabriel  only  was  welcome; 


"  Father  Felicien, 

Priest  and  pedagogue  both  in  the  village,  had  taught  them  their  letters 
Out  of  the  selfsame  book,  with  the  hymns  of  the  church  and  tbe 
plain  song." 

Gabriel  Lajeunesse,  the  son  of  Basil  the  blacksmith, 
Who  was  a  mighty  man  in  the  village,  and  honored  of  all 

men ; 

For  since  the  birth  of  time,  throughout  all  ages  and  nations, 
Has  the  craft  of  the  smith  been  held  in  repute  by  the 

people. 


EVANOEL1NE.  21 

Basil  was  Benedict's  friend.  Their  children  from  earliest 
childhood 

Grew  up  together  as  brother  and  sister;  and  Father  Fe- 
lician, 

Priest  and  pedagogue  both  in  the  village,  had  taught  them 
their  letters 

Out  of  the  selfsame  book,  with  the  hymns  of  the  church 
and  the  plain-song. 

But  when  the  hymn  was  sung,  and  the  daily  lesson  com 
pleted, 

Swiftly  they  hurried  away  to  the  forge  of  Basil  the  black 
smith. 


'  There  at  the  door  they  stood,  with  wondering  eyes  to  behold  him 
Take  in  his  leathern  lap  the  hoof  of  the  horse  as  a  plaything." 


There  at  the  door  they  stood,  with  wondering  eyes  to  be 
hold  him 

Take  in  his  leathern  lap  the  hoof  of  the  horse  as  a  play 
thing, 

Nailing  the  shoe  in  its  place  ;  while  near  him  the  tire  of 
'  the  cart-wheel 

Lay  like  a  fiery  snake,  coiled  round  in  a  circle  of  cinders. 

Oft  on  autumnal  eves,  when  without  in  the  gathering  dark 
ness 

Bursting  with  light  seemed  the  smithy,  through  every 
cranny  and  crevice, 


22 


E  VAXGELIXK. 


Warm   by   the   forge   within   they   watched   the  laboring 

bellows, 
And  as  its  panting  ceased,  and  the  sparks  expired  in  the 

ashes, 
Merrily  laughed,  and  said  they  were  nuns  going  into  the 

chapel. 

Oft  on  sledges  in  winter,  as  swift  as  the  swoop  of  the  eagle, 
Down  the  hill-side  bounding,  they  glided  away  o'er  the 

meadow. 
Oft  in  the  barns  they  climbed  to  the  populous  nests  on  the 

rafters, 


'  v  "^V'1       •> .  i  <  ;•*•  ' 
'  Oft  in  the  barns  they  clli 


i  the  populous  nests  on  the  rafters." 


Seeking  with  eager  eyes  that  wondrous  stone,  which  the 

swallow 
Brings  from  the  shore  of  the  sea  to  restore  the  sight  of  its 

fledglings ; 
Lucky   was  he   who   found  that  stone  in  the  nest  of  the 

swallow  ! 
Thus  passed  a  few  swift  years,  and  they  no  longer  were 

children. 
He  was  a  valiant  youth,  and  his  face,  like  the  face  of  the 

morning, 
Gladdened  the  earth  with  its  light,  and  ripened  thought 

into  action. 
She  was  a  woman  now,  with   the   heart   and  hopes  of  a 

woman. 


EVANGELINE.  23 

''  Sunsliine  of  Saint  Eulalie  "  was  she  called;  for  that  was 

the  sunshine 
Which,  as  the  farmers  believed,  would  load  their  orchards 

with  apples; 
She,  too,  would  bring  to  her  husband's  house  delight  and 

abundance, 
Filling  it  full  of  love  and  the  ruddy  faces  of  children. 


EVANOELINE. 


'  Foremost,  bearing  the  bell,  Evanjrellne's  beautiful  heifer. 
Proud  of  her  snow-white  hide,  and  the  ribbon  that  waved  from  her 
collar." 


II. 

Now  had  the  season  returned,  when  the  nights  grow  colder 

and  longer, 

And  the  retreating  sun  the  sign  of  the  Scorpion  enters. 
Birds  of  passage  sailed  through  the  leaden  air,  from  the 

ice-bound, 

Desolate  northern  bays  to  the  shores  of  tropical  islands. 
Harvests  were  gathered  in;  and  wild  with  the  winds  of 

September 
Wrestled  the  trees  of  the  forests,  as  Jacob  of  old  with  the 

angel. 

All  the  signs  foretold  a  winter  long  and  inclement. 
Bees,  with  prophetic  instinct  of  want,  had  hoarded  their 

honey 

Till  the  hives  overflowed;  and  the  Indian  hunters  asserted 
Cold  would  the  winter  be,  for  thick  was  the  fur  of  the 

foxes. 
Such  was  the  advent  of  autumn.     Then  followed  that 

beautiful  season, 

Called  by  the  pious  Acadian  peasants  the  Summer  of  All- 
Saints! 
Filled  was  the  air  with  a  dreamy  and  magical  light;  and 

the  landscape 

Lay  as  if  new  created  in  all  the  freshness  of  childhood. 
Peace  seemed  to  reign  upon  earth,  and  the  restless  heart  of 

the  ocean 


EVANGELINE.  25 

Was  for  a  moment  consoled.     All  sounds  were  in  harmony 

blended. 
Voices  of  children  at  play,   the  crowing  of  cocks  in  the 

farm-yards, 
Whir  of  wings  in  the  drowsy  air,   and  the  cooing  of 

pigeons, , 
All  were  subdued  and  low  as  the  murmurs  of  love,  and  the 

great  sun 
Looked  with  the  eye  of  love  through  the  golden  vapors 

around  him; 
While  arrayed   in   its   robes  of    russet    and    scarlet   and 

yellow, 
Bright  with  the  sheen  of  the  dew,  each  glittering  tree  of 

the  forest 

Flashed  like  the  plane-tree  the  Persian  adorned  with  man 
tles  and  jewels. 

Now  recommenced  the  reign  of  rest  and  affection  and  still 
ness. 
Day  with  its  burden  and  heat  had  departed,  and  twilight 

descending 
Brought  back  the  evening  star  to  the  sky,  and  the  herds  to 

the  homestead. 
Pawing  the  ground  they  came,  and  resting  their  necks  on 

each  other, 
And  with  their  nostrils  distended  inhaling  the  freshness  of 

evening. 

Foremost,  bearing  the  bell,  Evangeline's  beautiful  heifer, 
Proud  of  her  snow-white  hide,  and  the  ribbon  that  waved 

from  her  collar, 

Quietly  paced  and  slow,  as  if  conscious  of  human  affection. 
Then  came  the  shepherd  back  with  his  bleating  flocks  from 

the  sea-side, 
Where  was  their   favorite  pasture.     Behind  them  followed 

the  watch-dog, 
Patient,  full  of  importance,  and  grand  in  the  pride  of  his 

instinct, 

Walking  from  side  to  side  with  a  lordly  air,  and  superbly 
Waving  his  bushy  tail,  and  urging  forward  the  stragglers  ; 
Regent  of  flocks  was  he  when  the  shepherd  slept ;  their 

protector, 
When  from  the  forest  at  night,  through  the  starry  silence, 

the  wolves  howled. 


26  EVANGELINE. 

Late,  with  the  rising  moon,  returned  „, .  ^>s  from  the 
marshes, 

Laden  with  briny  hay,  that  filled  the  air  with  its  odor. 

Cheerily  neighed  the  steeds,  with  dew  on  their  manes  and 
their  fetlocks, 

While  aloft  on  their  shoulders  the  wooden  and  ponderous 
saddles, 

Painted  with  brilliant  dyes,  and  adorned  with  tassels  of 
crimson, 

Nodded  in  bright  array,  like  hollyhocks  heavy  with  blos 
soms. 


1  Late,  with  the  rising  moon,  returned  the  wains  from  the  marshes, 
Laden  with  briny  hay,  that  filled  the  air  with  its  odor." 


Patiently  stood  the  cows  meanwhile,  and  yielded  their 
udders 

Unto  the  milkmaid's  hand  ;  whilst  loud  and  in  regular 
cadence 

Into  the  sounding  pails  the  foaming  streamlets  descended. 

Lowing  of  cattle  and  peals  of  laughter  were  heard  in  the 
farm-yard, 

Echoed  back  by  the  barns.     Anon  they  sank  into  stillness  ; 

Heavily  closed,  with  a  jarring  sound,  the  valves  of  the  barn 
doors, 

Rattled  the  wooden  bars,  and  all  for  a  season  was  silent. 


EVANGELINE.  27 

In-doors,  warm  by  the  wide-mouthed  fire  place,  idly  the 
farmer 

Sat  in  his  elbow  chair;  and  watched  how  the  flames  and  the 
smoke- wreaths 

Struggled  together  like  foes  in  a  burning  city.    Behind  Mm, 

Nodding  and  mocking  along  the  wall,  with  gestures  fan 
tastic, 

Darted  his  own  huge  shadow,  and  vanished  away  into 
darkness. 

Faces,  clumsily  carved  in  oak,  on  the  back  of  his  arm 
chair 

Laughed  in  the  flickering  light,  and  the  pewter  plates  on 
the  dresser 

Caught  and  reflected  the  flame,  as  shields  of  armies  the 
sunshine. 

Fragments  of  song  the  old  man  sang,  and  carols  of  Christ 
mas, 

Such  as  at  home,  in  the  olden  time,  his  fathers  before  him 

Sang  in  their  Norman  orchards  and  bright  Burgundian 
vineyards. 

Close  at  her  father's  side  was  the  gentle  Evangeline  seated, 

Spinning  flax  for  the  loom,  that  stood  in  the  corner  behind 
her. 

Silent  awhile  were  its  treadles,  at  rest  was  its  diligent 
shuttle, 

While  the  monotonous  drone  of  the  wheel,  like  the  drone 
of  a  bagpipe, 

Followed  the  old  man's  song,  and  united  the  fragments 
together. 

As  in  a  church,  when  the  chant  of  the  choir  at  intervals 
ceases, 

Footfalls  are  heard  in  the  aisles,  or  words  of  the  priest  at 
the  altar, 

So,  in  each  pause  of  the  song,  with  measured  motion  the 
clock  clicked. 

Thus  as  they  sat,  there  were  footsteps  heard,  and,  suddenly 

lifted, 
Sounded  the  wooden  latch,  and  the  door  swung  back  on  its 

hinges. 
Benedict  knew  by  the  hob-nailed  shoes  it  was  Basil  the 

blacksmith, 
And  by  her  beating  heart  Evangeline  knew  who  was  with 

him. 


28  EVANGELINE. 

"  Welcome  !  "    the   farmer   exclaimed,    as   tlieir   footsteps 

paused  on  tlie  threshold, 
"  Welcome,  Basil,  my  friend  !  Come,  take  thy  place  on  the 

settle 
Close  by  the  chimney-side,  which  is  always  empty  without 

thee ; 
Take  from  the  shelf  overhead  thy  pipe  and  the  box  of 

tobacco ; 
Never  so  much  thyself  art  thou  as  when  through  the 

curling 
Smoke  of  the  pipe  or  the  forge  thy  friendly  and  jovial  face 

gleams 
Round  and  red  as  the  harvest  moon  through   the  mist  of 

the  marshes." 
Then,  with  a  smile  of  content,  thus  answered  Basil  the 

blacksmith, 

Taking  with  easy  air  the  accustomed  seat  by  the  fireside— 
"  Benedict  Bellefontaine,  thou  has  ever  thy  jest  and  thy 

'  ballad  ! 
Ever  in  cheerfullest  mood  art  thou,  when  others  are  filled 

with 

Gloomy  forebodings  of  ill,  and  see  only  ruin  before  them. 
Happy  art  thou,  as  if  every  day  thou  hadst  picked  up  a 

horseshoe." 
Pausing  a  moment,  to  take  the  pipe  that  Evangeline  brought 

liini, 
And  with  a  coal  from  the  embers  had  lighted,  he  slowly 

continued — 
"  Four  days    now  are  passed  since  the  English  ships  at 

their  anchors 
Ride  in  the  Gaspereaus  mouth,  with  their  cannon  pointed 

against  us. 

What  their  design  may  be  is  unknown  ;  but  all  are  com 
manded 
On  the  morrow  to  meet  in  the  church,  where  his  Majesty's 

mandate 
Will  be  proclaimed  as  law  in  the  land.     Alas  !  in  the  mean 

time 

Many  surmises  of  evil  alarm  the  hearts  of  the  people." 
Then  made  answer  the  farmer  :  "  Perhaps  some  friendlier 

purpose 
Brings  these  ships  to  our  shores.     Perhaps  the  harvests  in 

England 
By  the  untimely  rains  or  untimelier  heat  have  been  blighted, 


EVANGELINE.  S9 

And  from  our  bursting  barns  they  would  feed  their  cattle 
and  children." 

"  Not  so  thinketh  the  folk  in  the  village,"  said,  warmly, 
the  blacksmith, 

Shaking  his  head,  as  in  doubt ;  then,  heaving  a  sigh,  he 
continued — 

"  Louisburg  is  not  forgotten,  nor  Beau  Sejoui,  nor  Pott 
Royal. 

Many  already  have  fled  to  the  forest,  and  lurk  on  its  out 
skirts, 


• '  Not  so  thinketh  the  folk  in  the  village,'  said  warmly,  the  blacksmith, 
Shaking  his  head,  as  in  doubt." 


Waiting  with  anxious  hearts  the  dubious  fate  of  to-morrow. 
Anns  have  been  taken  from  us,  and  warlike  weapons  of  all 

kinds ; 
Nothing  is  left  but  the  blacksmith's  sledge  and  the  scythe 

of  the  mower. " 

Then  with  a  pleasant  smile  made  answer  the  jovial  farmer: 
"  Safer  are  we  unarmed,  in  the  midst  of  our  flocks  and  our 

cornfields, 
Safer  within  these  peaceful  dikes,  besieged  by  the  ocean, 


30  EVANGELINE. 

Than  were  our  fathers  in  forts,  besieged  by   the  enemy's 

cannon. 
Fear  no  evil,  my  friend,  and  to-night  may  no  shadow  of 

sorrow 
Fall  on  this  house  and  hearth  ;  for  this  is  the  night  of  the 

contract. 
Built  are  the  house  and  the  barn.     The  merry  lads  of  the 

village 
Strongly  have  built  them  and  well;  and,  breaking  the  glebe 

round  about  them, 
Filled  the  barn  with  hay,  and  the  house  with  food  for  a 

twelvemonth. 

Eene  Leblanc  will  be  here  anon,  with  his  papers  and  ink- 
horn. 
Shall  we  not  then  be  glad,  and   rejoice  in  the  joy  of  our 

children  ?" 
As  apart  by  the  window  she  stood,   with  her  hand  in  her 

lover's, 
Blushing  Evangeline  heard  the  words  that  her  father  had 

spoken, 
And  as  they  died  on  his  lips  the  worthy  notary  entered. 


EVANGELINE. 


•61 


"  More  than  a  hundred 
Children's  children  rode  on  his  knee,  and  heard  his  great  watch  tick." 


III. 

BENT  like  a  laboring  oar,  that  toils  in  tbe  serf  of  the  ocean, 
Bent,  but  not  broken,  by  age  was  the   form   of  the  notary 

public  ; 
Shocks  of  yellow  hair,    like  the   silken   floss  of  the  maize, 

hung 
Over  his   shoulders ;  his   forehead  was   high ;  and  glasses 

with  horn  bows 

Sat  astride  on  his  nose,  with  a  look  of  wisdom  supernal. 
Father  of    twenty   children   was    he,   and    more   than   a 

hundred 
Children's  children  rode  on   his  knee,  and   heard  his  great 

watch  tick. 
Four  long  years  in  the  times  of  the  war  had  he  languished 

r  captive, 


32  EVANOELINE. 

Suffering  much  in  an  old  French  fort  as  the  friend  of  the 

English. 

Now,  though  warier  grown,  without  all  guile  or  suspicion, 
Ripe  in  wisdom    was  he,  but    patient,    and    simple  and 

childlike. 

He  was  beloved  by  all,  and  most  of  all  by  the  children  ; 
For  he  told  them  tales  of  the  Loup-garou  in  the  forest, 
And  of  the  goblin  that  came  in  the  night  to  water  the 

horses, 
And  of  the  white  Letiche,  the  ghost  of  a   child  who  un- 

christened 
Died,  and  was  doomed  to  haunt  unseen  the    chambers  of 

children  ; 

And  how  on  Christmas  eve  the  oxen  talked  in  the  stable, 
And  how  the  fever  was  cured  by  a  spider  shut  up  in  a 

nutshell, 
And  of  the  marvellous  powers  of  four-leaved  clover  and 

horseshoes, 

With  whatsoever  else  was  writ  in  the  lore  of  the  village. 
Then  up  rose  from  his  seat  by  the  fireside  Basil  the  black 
smith, 
Knocked  from  his  pipe  the  ashes,  and  slowly  extending  his 

right  hand, 
"  Father  Leblanc,"  he  exclaimed,  "  thou  hast  heard  the  talk 

ir.  the  village, 
And,  perchance,  canst  tell  us  some  news  of  these  ships  and 

their  errand." 
Then    with    modest  demeanor    made  answer    the  notary 

public — 
"  Gossip  enough  have  I  heard,  in  sooth,  yet  am  never  the 

wiser ; 
And  what  tLeir  errand   may  be  I  know  not  better  than 

others 

Yet  am  I  not  or  those  who  imagine  some  evil  intention    • 
Brings  them  here,  for  we  are    at  peace ;  and  why  then 

molest  us?" 
"God's name!"  shouted  the  hasty  and  somewhat  irascible 

blacKsmith ; 
"  Must  we  in  all  things  look  for  the  how,  and   the  why, 

and  the  wherefore  ? 
Daily  injustice  is  done,   and  might  is  the  right  of  the 

strongest  !" 
But,  without  heeding  his  warmth,  continued  the  notary 

public^- 


EVANGELINE.  33 

"Man  is  unjust,  but  God  is  just ;  and  finally  justice 

Triumphs ;  and  well  I  remember  a  story,  that  often  con 
soled  me, 

When  as  a  captive  I  lay  in  the.  old  French  fort  at  Port 
Royal." 

This  was  the  old  man's  favorite  tale,  and  he  loved  to  re 
peat  it 

When  his  neighbors  complained  that  any  injustice  was 
done  them. 

"  Once  in  an  ancient  city,  whose  name  I  no  longer  remem 
ber, 

Raised  aloft  on  a  column,  a  brazen  statue  of  Justice 

Stood  in  the  public  square,  upholding  the  scales  in  its  left 
hand, 

And  in  its  right  a  sword,  as  an  emblem  that  j  ustice  pre 
sided 

Over  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  the  hearts  and  homes  of  the 
people. 

Even  the  birds  had  built  their  nests  in  the  scales  of  the 
balance, 

Having  no  fear  of  the  sword  that  flashed  in  the  sunshine 
above  them. 

But  in  the  course  of  time  the  laws  of  the  land  were  cor 
rupted; 

Might  took  the  place  of  right,  and  the  weak  were  oppressed, 
and  the  mighty 

Ruled  with  an  iron  rod.  Then  it  chanced  in  a  nobleman's 
palace 

That  a  necklace  of  pearls  was  lost,  and  ere  long  a  sus 
picion 

Fell  on  an  orphan  girl  who  lived  as  maid  in  the  household. 

She,  after  form  of  trial  condemned  to  die  on  the  scaffold, 

Patiently  met  her  doom  at  the  foot  of  the  statue  of  Justice 

As  to  her  Father  in  heaven  her  innocent  spirit  ascended, 

Lo!  o'er  the  city. a  tempest  rose;  and  the  bolts  of  the 
1  thunder 

Smote  the  statue  of  bronze,  and  hurled  in  wrath  from  its 
left  hand 

Down  on  the  pavement  below  the  clattering  scales  of  the 
balance, 

And  in  the  hollow  thereof  was  found  the  nest  of  a  magpie, 

Into  whose  clay-built  walls  the  necklace  of  pearls  was  in 
woven. " 


34  EVANGELINE, 

Silenced,  but  not  convinced,  when  the  story  was  ended,  the 

blacksmith 
Stood  like  a  man  who  fain  would  speak,  but  findeth  no 

language; 
All  his  thoughts  were  congealed  into  lines  on  his  face,  as 

the  vapors 
Freeze  in   fantastic   shapes  on  the   window-panes  in  the 

winter. 

Then  Evangeline  lighted  tlie  brazen  lamp  on  the  table, 
Filled,  till  it  overflowed,  the  pewter  tankard  with  home 
brewed 


"In  friendly  contention  the  old  men 
Laughed  at  each  lucky  hit,  or  unsuccessful  manoeuvre." 


Nut-brown  ale,  that  was  famed  for  its  strength  in  the  vil 
lage  of  Grand-Pre; 

While  from  his  pocket  the  notary  drew  his  papers  and  ink- 
horn, 

Wrote  with  a  steady  hand  the  date  and  the  age  of  the 
parties, 

Naming  the  dower  of  the  bride  in  flocks  of  sheep  and  in 
"«ttle. 

Orderly  all  things  proceeded,  and  duly  and  well  were  com 
pleted, 


EVANGELINE.  S5 

And  the  great  seal  of  the  law  was  set  like  a  sun  on  the 
margin. 

Then  from  his  leathern  pouch  the  farmer  threw  on  the 
table 

Three  times  the  old  man's  fee  in  solid  pieces  of  silver; 

And  the  notary  rising,  and  blessing  the  bride  and  the  bride 
groom, 

Lifted  aloft  the  tankard  of  ale  and  drank  to  their  welfare. 

Wiping  the  foam  from  his  lip,  he  solemnly  bowed  and 
departed, 

While  in  silence  the  others  sat  and  mused  by  the  fireside, 

Till  Evangeline  brought  the  draught-board  out  of  its 
corner. 

Soon  was  the  game  begun.  In  friendly  contention  the  old 
men 

Laughed  at  each  lucky  hit,  or  unsuccessful  manoeuvre, 

Laughed  when  a  man  was  crowned,  or  a  breach  was  made 
in  the  king-row. 

Meanwhile  apart,  in  the  twilight  gloom  of  a  window's  em 
brasure, 

Sat  the  lovers,  and  whispered  together,  beholding  the  moon 
rise 

Over  the  pallid  sea  and  the  silvery  mist  of  the  meadows. 

Silently  one  by  one,  in  the  infinite  meadows  of  heaven, 

Blossomed  the  lovely  stars,  the  f  Orget-me-nots  of  the  angels. 

Thus  passed  the  evening  away.  Anon  the  bell  from  the 
belfry 

Rang  out  the  hour  of  nine,  the  village  curfew,  and  straight 
way 

Rose  the  guests  and  departed  ;  and  silence  reigned  in  the 
household. 

Many  a  farewell  word  and  sweet  good-night  on  the  door 
step 

Lingered  long  in  Evangeline's  heart,  and  filled  it  with 
gladness. 

Carefully  then  were  covered  the  embers  that  glowed  on  the 
heath-stone, 

And  on  the  oaken  stairs  resounded  the  tread  of  the  farmer. 

Soon  with  a  soundless  step  the  foot  of  Evangeline  followed. 

Up  the  staircase  moved  a  luminous  space  in  the  darkness, 

Lighted  less  by  the  lamp  than  the  shining  face  of  the 
maiden. 


36 


EVANGELINE. 


Silent  she  passed  through  the  hall,  and  entered  the  door  of 

her  chamber. 
Simple  that  chamber  was,  with  its  curtains  of  white,  and 

its  clothes-press 
Ample  and  high,  on  whose  spacious  shelves  were  carefully 

folded 
Linen  and  woolen  stuffs,  by  the  hand  of  Evangeline  woven 


"  Many  a  farewell  word  and  sweet  good  night  on  the  door-step 
Lingered  long  in  Evangeline's  heart,  ana  filled  it  with  gladness." 


This  was  the  precious  dower  she  would  bring  to  her  hus 
band  in  marriage, 

Better  than  flocks  and  herds,  being  proofs  of  her  skill  as  a 
housewife. 

goon  she  extinguished  her  lamp,  f  or  t&§  mellow  and  radiant 


EVANGELINE.  37 

Streamed  through  the  windows,  and  lighted  the  room,  till 

the  heart  of  the  maiden 
Swelled  and  obeyed  its  power,  like  the  tremulous  tides  of 

the  ocean. 
Ah !  she  was  fair,  exceeding  fair  to  behold,  as  she  stood 

with 

Naked  snow-white  feet  on  the  gleaming  floor  of  her  chamber! 
Little  she  dreamed  that  below,  among  the  trees  of  the 

orchard, 
Waited  her  lover  and  watched  for  the  gleam  of  her  lamp 

and  her  shadow. 
Yet  were  her  thoughts  of  him,  and  at  times  a  feeling  of 

sadness 
Passed  o'er  her  soul,  as  the  sailing  shade  of  clouds  in  the 

moonlight 
Flitted  across  the  floor  and    darkened  the  room    for    a 

moment. 
And  as  she  gazed  from  the  window  she  saw  serenely  the 

moon  pass, 
Forth  from   the  folds  of   a  cloud,  and  one  star  follow  her 

footsteps, 
As  out  of  Abraham's  tent  young  Ishmael  wandered  with 

Hagari 


145559 


38 


KVANGELINW. 


"  For  Evangeline  stood  among  the  guests  of  her  father; 
Bright  was  her  face  with  smiles,  and  words  of  welcome  and  gladness 
Fell  from  her  beautiful  lips,  ana  blessed  the  cup  as  she  gave  it." 


IV. 

PLEASANTLY  rose  next  morn  the  sun  on  the  village  of 
Grand-Pre. 

Pleasantly  gleamed  in  the  soft,  sweet  air  the  Basin  of  Minas, 

Where  the  ships,  with  their  wavering  shadows,  were  rid 
ing  at  anchor. 

Life  had  long  been  astir  in  the  village,  and  clamorous  rabor 

Knocked  with  its  hundred  hands  at  the  golden  gates  of  the 
morning. 

Now  from  the  country  around,  from  the  farms  and  the 
neighboring  hamlets, 

Came  in  their  holiday  dresses  the  blithe  Acadian  peasants. 

Many  a  glad  good-morrow  and  jocund  laugh  from  the  young 
folk 

Made  the  bright  air  brighter,  as  up  from  the  numerous 
meadows, 


EVANGELINE.  SS 

Where  no  patli  could  be  seen  but  the  track  of  wheels  in 
the  greensward, 

Group  after  group  appeared,  and  joined,  or  passed  on  the 
highway. 

Long  ere  noon,  in  the  village  all  sounds  of  labor  were 
silenced. 

Thronged  were  the  streets  with  people  ;  and  noisy  groups 
at  the  house-doors 

Sat  in  the  cheerful  sun,  and  rejoiced  and  gossipped  to 
gether, 


*  Now  from  the  country  around,  from  the  farms  and  the  neighboring 

hamlets, 
Came  in  their  holiday  dresses  the  blithe  Acadian  peasants." 

Every  house  was  an  inn,  where  all  were  welcomed  and 
feasted  ; 

For  with  this  simple  people,  who  lived  liked  brothers  to 
gether, 

All  things  were  held  in  common,  and  what  one  had  was 
another's. 

Yet  under  Benedict's  roof  hospitality  seemed  more  abun 
dant  : 

For  Evangeline  stood  among  the  guests  of  her  father  ; 

Bright  was  her  face  with  smiles,  and  words  of  welcome 
and  gladness 

Fell  from  her  beautiful  lips,  and  blessed  the  cup  as  she 
gave  it. 


40  KVANGELItfE. 

Under  the  open  sky,  in  the  odorous  air  of  the  orchard, 
Bending  with  golden  fruit,  was  spread  the  feast  of  be 

trothal. 
There  in  the  shade  of  the  porch  were  the  priest  and  the 

notary  seated  ; 

There  good  Benedict  sat,  and  sturdy  Basil  the  blacksmith. 
Not  far  withdrawn  from  these,  by  the  cider-press  and  the 

beehives, 
Michael  the  fiddler  was  placed,  with  the  gayest  of  hearts 

and  of  waistcoats. 


"  Merrily,  merrily  whirled  the  wheels  of  the  dizzying  dances 
Under  the  orchard-trees  and  down  the  path  to  the  meadows.11 


Shadow  and  light  from  the  leaves  alternately  played  on  his 

snow-white 
Hair,  as  it  waved  in  the  wind  ;  and  the  jolly  face  of  the 

fiddler 
Glowed  like  a  living  coal  when  the  ashes  are  blown  from 

the  embers. 

Gayly  the  old  man  sang  to  the  vibrant  sound  of  his  fiddle, 
Tons  les  Bourgeois  de  Chartres,  and  Le  Carillon  de  Dun- 

kerque, 

And  anon  with  his  wooden  shoes  beat  time  to  the  music. 
Merrily,  merrily  whirled  the  wheels  of  the  dizzying  dances 
Under  the  orchard-trees  and  down  the  path  to  the  meadows, 


EVANGELINE,  41 

Oik  folk  and  young  together,  and  children  mingled  among 
them. 

Fairest  of  all  the  maids  was  Evangeline,  Benedict's 
daughter  ! 

Noblest  of  all  the  youths  was  Gabriel,  son  of  the  black 
smith  1 

So  passed  the  morning  away.     And  lo  !  with  a  summons 

sonorous 
Sounded  the  bell  from  its  tower,  and  over  the  meadows  a 

drum  beat. 
Thronged  ere  long  was  the  church   with   men.     Without, 

in  the  churchyard, 


"  Without,  in  the  churchyard, 
Waited  the  women.    They  stood  by  the  graves,  and  hung  on  the 

head-stones 
Garlands  of  autumn-leaves  and  evergreens  fresh  from  the  forests." 

Waited  the  women.     They  stood  by   the  graves,  and  hung 

on  the  head-stones 
Garlands  of  autumn-leaves  and  evergreens   fresh  from  the 

forest. 
Then  came  the  guard  from  the  ships,  and  marching  proudly 

among  them 
Entered    the    sacred    portal.     With    loud    and  dissonant 

clangor 
Echoed  the  sound  of  their  brazen   drums  from   ceiling  and 

casement — 
Echoed  a  moment  only,  and  slowly  the  ponderous  portal, 


4*  MYANGELINE. 

Closed,  and  in  silence  the  crowd  awaited  <rlxe  will  of  the 

v  -di^rs. 
Then  a\,<\>tm  mcir  commander,  and  spaKe  rrom  cne  steps  or 

the  altar, 

Holding  aloft  in  his  hands,  with  its  seals,  the  royal  com 
mission. 
"  You  are  convened  this  day,"  he  said,  "  by  his  Majesty's 

orders.  • 

Clement  and  kind  has  he  been;  but  how  you  have  an 
swered  his  kindness, 
Let  your  own  hearts  reply !     To  my  natural  make  and  my 

temper 
Painful  the  task  is  I  do,  which  to  you  I  know  must  be 

grievous. 
Yet  must  I   bow   and   obey,   and  deliver  the  will  of  our 

monarch; 
Namely,  that  all  your  lands,  and  dwellings,  and  cattle  of 

all  kinds 
Forfeited  be  to  the  crown;  and  that  you  yourselves  from 

this  province 
Be  transported  to  other  lands.     God  grant  you  may  dwell 

there 

Ever  as  faithful  subjects,  a  happy  and  peaceable  people! 
Prisoners  now  I  declare  you;   for   such  is  his  Majesty's 

pleasure!" 

As,  when  the  air  is  serene  in  the  sultry  solstice  of  summer, 
Suddenly   gathers   a   storm,  and   the  deadly  sling  of  the 

hailstones 
Beats  down  the  farmer's  corn  in  the  field  and  shatters  his 

windows, 
Hiding  the  sun,  and  strewing  the  ground  with  thatch  from 

the  house- roofs, 
Bellowing  fly   the  herds,    and   seek   to   break    their    in- 

closures; 
So  on  the  hearts  of  the  people  descended  the  words  of  the 

speaker. 
Silent  a  moment  they  stood  in  speechless  wonder,  and  then 

rose 

Louder  and  ever  louder  a  wail  of  sorrow  and  anger, 
And,  by  one  impulse    moved,   they  madly  rushed  to  the 

doorway. 

Vain  was  the  hope  of  escape;  and  cries  and  fierce  impre 
cations 


EVANGELINE.  48 

Rang  through  the  house  of  prayer;  and  high  o'er  the  heads 

of  the  others 

Rose,  with  his  arms  uplifted,  the  figure  of  Basil  the  black 
smith, 

As,  on  a  stormy  sea,  a  spar  is  tossed  by  the  billows. 
Flushed   was  his   face   and   distorted   with   passion;    and 

wildly  he  shouted — 
"  Down   with   the  tyrants    of   England!  we    never    have 

sworn  them  allegiance! 
Death  to  these  foreign  soldiers,  who  seize  on  our  homes 

and  our  harvests!" 
More  he  fain  would  have  said,  but  the  merciless  hand  of 

a  soldier 
Smote  him  upon  the  mouth,  and  dragged  him  down  to  the 

pavement. 

In  the  midst  of  the  strife  and  tumult  of  angry  contention, 
Lo!  the  door  of  the  chancel  opened,  and  Father  Felician 
Entered,  with  serious  mien,  and  ascended  the  steps  of  the 

altar. 
Raising  his  reverend  hand,  with  a  gesture  he  awed  into 

silence 
All   that   clamorous   throng;    and   thus   he    spake  to  his 

people; 
Deep  were  his  tones  and  solemn;  in  accents  measured  and 

mournful 
Spake  he,  as,  after  the  tocsin's  alarum,  distinctly  the  clock 

strikes. 
"  What  is  this  that  "ye  do,  my   children?  what    madness 

has  seized  you? 
Forty  years   of  my  life  have   I   labored  among  you,  and 

taught  you, 

Not  in  word  alone,  but  in  deed,  to  love  one  another! 
Is  this  the  fruit  of  my  toils,  of  my  vigils  and  prayers  and 

privations? 
Have  you  so  soon  forgotten  all  lessons  of  love  and  for- 


This  is  the  house  of  the  Prince  of   Peace,  and  would  you 

profane  it 
Thus   with   violent    deeds    and  hearts   overflowing   with 

hatred  ? 
Lo !  where  the  crucified  Christ   from   his  cross  is  gazing 

upon  you  ! 


44  SVANGELINE. 

See  !  in  those  sorrowful  eyes  what  meekness  and  holy  com 
passion  ! 

Hark  !  how  those  lips  still  repeat  the  prayer,  '  0  Father, 
forgive  them  !' 

Let  us  repeat  that  prayer  in  the  hour  when  the  wicked  as 
sail  us,. 

Let  us  repeat  it  now,  and  say,  '  0  Father,  forgive  them!'  " 

Few  were  his  words  of  rebuke,  but  deep  in  the  hearts  of 
his  people 

Sank  they,  and  sobs  of  contrition  succeeded  that  passionate 
outbreak  ; 

And  they  repeated  his  prayer,  and  said,  "  O  Father,  for 
give  them !" 

Then  came  the  evening  service.     The  tapers  gleamed  from 

the  altar. 

Fervent  and  deep  was  the  voice  of  the  priest,  and  the  people 
'«••••-  responded, 
Not  with  their  lips  alone,  but  their  hearts  ;  and  the  Ave 

Maria 
Sang  they,  and  fell  on  their  knees,  and  their  souls,   with 

devotion  translated, 
Rose  on   the  ardor  of    prayer,   like  Elijah   ascending  to 

heaven. 

Meanwhile  had  spread  in  the  village  the  tidings  of  ill,  and 

on  all  sides 
Wandered,  wailing,  from   house  to  house  the  women  and 

children. 
Long  at  her  father's  door  Evangeline  stood,  with  her  right 

hand 

Shielding  her  eyes  from  the  level  rays  of  the  sun,  that,  de 
scending, 
Lighted  the  village  street  with  mysterious  splendor,  and 

roofed  each 
Peasant's  cottage  with  golden  thatch,  and  emblazoned  its 

windows. 
Long  within  had  been  spread  the  snow-white  cloth  on  the 

table  ; 
There  stood  the  wheaten  loaf,  and  the  honey  fragrant  with 

wild  flowers ; 
There  stood  the  tankard  of  ale,  and  the  cheese  fresh  brough; 

from  the  dairy  ; 


EVANGEL1NE. 


45 


And  at  the  head  of  the  board  the  great  arm-chair  of  the 

farmer. 
Thus   did   Evangeline   wait   at  her  father's   door,    as  the 

sunset 
Threw  the  long  shadows  of  trees   o'er  the   broad  ambrosial 

meadows. 
Ah  !  on  her  spirit  within  a  deeper  shadow  had  fallen, 


'  Then,  all-forgetful  of  self,  she  wandered  into  the  village. 
Cheering  with  looks  and  words  the  disconsolate  hearts  of  the  women." 


And  from  the  fields  of  her  soul  a  fragrance  celestial  as 
cended — 

Charity,  meekness,  love,  and  hope,  and  forgiveness,  and 
patience ! 

Then,  all-forgetful  of  self,  she  wandered  into  the  village. 

Cheering  with  looks  and  word<*  tha  disconsolate  hearts  of 
the  women, 


46  EVANOELINE. 

As  o'er  the  darkening  fields  with  lingering  steps  they  de 
parted, 

Urged  by  their  household  cares,  and  the  weary  feet  of  their 

children. 
Down  sank  the  great  red  sun,  and  in  golden,  glimmering 

vapors 
Veiled  the  light  of  his  face,  like  the  Prophet  descending 

from  Sinai. 
Sweetly  over  the  village  the  bell  of  the  Angelus  sounded. 

Meanwhile,  amid  the  gloom,  by  the  church   Evangeline 

lingered. 
All  was  silent  within ;  and  in  vain  at  the  door  and  the 

windows 
Stood  she,  and  listened  and  looked,    until,   overcome  by 

emotion, 
"  Gabriel !  "  cried  she  aloud  with  tremulous  voice  ;  but  no 

answer 
Came  from  the  graves  of  the  dead,  nor  the  gloomier  grave 

of  the  living. 
Slowly  at  length  she  returned  to  the  tenantless  house  of  her 

father. 
Smouldered  the  fire  on  the  hearth,  on  the  board  stood  th^ 

supper  untasted, 

Empty  and  drear  was  each  room,  and  haunted  with  phan 
toms  of  terror. 
Sadly  echoed  her  step  on  the  stair  and  the  floor  of  her 

chamber. 

In  the  dead  of  the  night  she  heard  the  whispering  rain  fall 
Loud  on  the  withered  leaves  of  the  sycamore-tree  by  the 

window. 
Keenly  the  lightning  flashed  >  and  the  voice  of  the  echoing 

thunder 
Told  her  that  God  was  in  heaven,  and  governed  the  world 

he  created  ! 
Then  she  remembered  the  tale  she  had  heard  of  the  justice 

of  heaven  ; 

Soothed  was  her  troubled  soul,  and  she  peacefully  slum 
bered  till  morumg. 


EVANGELINE. 


47 


"  Marching  In  gloomy  procession 
Followed  the  long-imprisoned,  but  patient,  Acadian  farmera" 

V. 

FOUR  times  the  sun  had  risen  and  set;  and  now  on  the  fifth 
day 

Cheerily  called  the  cock  to  the  sleeping  maids  of  the  farm 
house. 

Soon  o'er  the  yellow  fields,  in  silent  and  mournful  pro 
cession, 

Came  from  the  neighboring  hamlets  and  farms  the  Acadian 
women, 

Driving  in  ponderous  wains  their  household  goods  to  the 
sea-shore, 

Pausing  and  looking  back  to  gaze  once  more  on  their 
dwellings, 


48  RVANGELINE. 

Ere  they  were  shut  from  sight  by  the  winding  road  and  the 

woodland. 
Close  at  their  sides  their  children  ran,  and  urged  on  the 

oxen, 
While  in  their  little  hands  they  clasped  some  fragments  of 

playthings. 

Thus  to  the  Gaspereau's  mouth  they  hurried ;  and  there 

on  the  sea- beach 

Piled  in  confusion  lay  the  household  goods  of  the  peasants. 
All  day  long  between  the  shore  and  the  ships  did  the  boats 

ply; 

All  day  long  the  wains  came  laboring  down  from  the  village. 
Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was  near  to  his  setting, 
Echoing  far  o'er  the  fields  came  the  roll  of  drums  from  the 

church-yard. 
Thither  the  women  and  children  thronged.     On  a  sudden 

the  church -doors 
Opened,  and  forth  came  the  guard,  and  marching  in  gloomy 

procession 
Followed     the    long-imprisoned,     but    patient,    Acadian 

farmers. 
Even  as  pilgrims,  who  journey  afar  from  their  homes  and 

their  country, 
Sing  as  they  go,  and  in  singing  forget  they  are  weary  and 

way-worn, 

So  with  songs  on  their  lips  the  Acadian  peasants  descended 
Down  from  the  church  to  the  shore,  amid  their  wives  and 

their  daughters. 
Foremost  the  young  men  came;  and,  raising  together  their 

voices, 
Sang  they  with  tremulous  lips  a  chant  of  the  Catholic 

Missions — 

"  Sacred  heart  of  the  Saviour  !  O  inexhaustible  fountain  ! 
Fill  our  hearts  this  day  with  strength  and  submission  and 

patience ! " 
Then  the  old  men,  as  they  marched,  and  the  women  that 

stood  by  the  way-side 
Joined  in  the  sacred  psalm,  and  the  birds  in  the  sunshine 

above  them 

Mingled  their  notes  therewith,  like  voices  of  spirits  de 
parted 

own  jo  t&e  shore  Evangeline  waited  i»  silen.ce, 


EVANGELINK  49 

Not  overcome  with  grief,  but  strong  in  the  hour  of  afflic 
tion — 

Calmly  and  sadly  waited,  until  the  procession  approached 
her, 

And  she  beheld  the  face  of  Gabriel  pale  with  emotion. 

Tears  then  filled  her  eyes,  and,  eagerly  running  to  meet 
him, 

Clasped  she  his  hands,  and  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder 
and  whispered — 

"  Gabriel!  be  of  good  cheer!  for  if  we  love  one  another, 

Nothing,  in  truth,  can  harm  us,  whatever  mischances  may 
happen!" 

Smiling  she  spake  these  words;  then  suddenly  paused,  for 
her  father 

Saw  she  slowly  advancing.     Alas!  how  changed  was  his 
aspect! 

Gone  was  the  glow  from  his  cheek,  and  the  fire  from  his 
eye,  and  his  footstep 

Heavier  seemed  with  the  weight  of  the  weary  heart  in  his 
bosom. 

But  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh,  she  clasped  his  neck  and  em 
braced  him, 

Speaking  words  of  endearment  where  words  of  comfort 
availed  not. 

Thus  to  the  Gaspereau's  mouth  moved  on  that  mournful 
procession. 

There  disorder  prevailed,  and  the  tumult  and  stir  of  em 
barking. 

Busily  plied  the  freighted  boats;  and  in  the  confusion 
Wives  were  torn  trom  their  husbands,  and  mothers,  too 

late,  saw  their  children 
Left  on  the  land,  extending  their  arms,  with  wildest  eii 

treaties. 

So  unto  separate  ships  were  Basil  and  Gabriel  carried, 
While  in  despair  on  the  shore  Evangeline  stood  with  her 

lather. 
Half  the  task  was  not  done  when  the  sun  went  down,  and 

the  twilight 
Deepened  and  darkened  around;  and  in  haste  the  refluent 

ocean 
Fled  away  from  the  shore,  and  left  the  line  of  the  sand 

beach 


50  EVANOELINE. 

Covered  with  waifs  of  the  tid«.  with  kelp  and  the  slippery 

sea- weed. 
Farther  back  in  the  midst  of  the  household  goods  and  the 

wagons, 

Like  to  a  gypsy  camp,  or  a  leaguer  after  a  battle, 
All  escape  cut  off  by  the  sea,  and  the  sentinels  near  them, 
Lay    encamped    for    the    night    the    houseless    Acadian 

farmers. 

Back  to  its  nethermost  caves  retreated  the  bellowing  ocean, 
Dragging  adown  the   beach    the    rattling   pebbles,    and 

leaving 
Inland  and  far  up  the  shore  the  stranded  boats  of  the 

sailors. 


"  Lowing  they  waited,  and  long,  at  the  well-known  bars  of  the  f  armyard- 
Waittd  and  looked  in  vain  for  the  voice  and  the  hand  of  the  milkmaid." 


Then,  as  the  night  descended,  the  herds  returned  from 

their  pastures; 
Sweet  was  the  moist  still  air  with  the  odor  of  milk  from 

their  udders; 
Lowing  they  waited,  and  long,  at  the  well-known  bars  of 

the  farm -yard — 
Waited  and  looked  in  vain  for  the  voice  and  the  hand  of 

the  milkmaid. 
Silence  reigned  in  the  streets;  from  the  church  no  Angelus 

sounded, 
Rose  no  smoke  from  the  roofs,  and  gleamed  no  lights  from 

the  windows. 


51 


But  on  the  shores  meanwhile  the  evening  fires  had  been 

kindled, 
Built  of  the  drift-wood  thrown  on  the  sands  from  wrecks 

in  the  tempest. 
Round  them  shapes  of  gloom  and  sorrowful  faces  were 

gathered, 
Voices  of  women  were  heard,  and  of  men,  and  the  crying 

of  children. 
Onward  from  fire  to  fire,  as  from  hearth  to  hearth  in  his 

parish, 
Wandered  the  faithful  priest,  consoling  and  blessing  and 

cheering, 


'  Suddenly  rose  from  the  south  a  Hght,  as  in  autumn  the  blood-red  " 
Moon  climbs  the  crystal  walls  of  heaven,  and  o'er  the  horizon 
Titan-like  stretches  its  hundred  hands  upon  mountain  and  meadow.' 


Like  unto  shipwrecked  Paul  on  Melita's  desolate  sea-shore. 
Thus  he  approached  the  place  where  Evangeline  sat  with 

her  father, 

And  in  the  nickering  light  beheld  the  face  of  the  old  man. 
Haggard  and  hollow  and  wan,  and  without  either  thought 

or  emotion,  . 

E'en  as  the  face  of  a  clock  from  which  the  hands  have  been 

taken. 
Vainly  Evangeline  strove  with  words  and  caresses  to  lieer 

him, 


52  EVANGELINB. 

Vainly  offered  him  food  ;  yet  lie  moved  not,  he  looked  not, 
he  spake  not, 

But,  with  a  vacant  stare,  ever  gazed  at  the  flickering  fire- 
light, 

"  Benedicite ! "  murmured  the  priest,  in  tones  of  com 
passion. 

More  he  fain  would  have  said,  but  his  heart  was  full,  and 
his  accents 

Faltered  and  paused  on  his  lips,  as  the  feet  of  a  child  on  i 
threshold, 

Hushed  by  the  scene  he  beholds,  and  the  awful  presence  of 
sorrow. 

Silently,  therefore,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  head  of  the 
maiden, 

Raising  his  eyes,  full  of  tears,  to  the  silent  stars  that  above 
them 

Moved  on  their  way,  unperturbed  by  the  wrongs  and  sor 
rows  of  mortals. 

Then  sat  he  down  at  her  side,  and  they  wept  together  in 
silence. 

Suddenly  rose  from  the  south  a  light,  as  in  autumn  the 
blood-red 

Moon  climbs  the  crystal  walls  of  heaven,  and  o'er  the 
horizon 

Titan-like  stretches  its  hundred  hands  upon  mountain  and 
meadow, 

Seizing  the  rocks  and  the  rivers,  and  piling  huge  shadows 
together. 

Broader  and  ever  broader  it  gleamed  on  the  roofs  of  the 
village, 

Gleamed  on  the  sky  and  the  sea,  and  the  ships  that  lay  in 
the  roadstead. 

Columns  of  shining  smoke  uprose,  and  flashes  of  flame  were 

Thrust  through  their  folds  and  withdrawn,  like  the  quiver 
ing  hands  of  a  martyr. 

Then  as  the  wind  seized  the  gleeds  and  the  burning  thatch, 
and,  uplifting, 

Whirled  them  aloft  through  the  air,  at  once  from  a  hundred 
house-tops 

Started  the  sheeted  smoke  with  flashes  of  flame  inter 
mingled. 

These  things  beheld  in  dismay  the  crowd  on  the  shore  and 
on  shipboard. 


EVANOELINE.  53 

Speechless  at    first  they  stoodv  then   cried  aloud  in  their 

anguish, 

"  We  shall  behold   no  more   our  homes   in   the  village  of 
Grand-Pre  !" 

Loud  on  a  sudden   the  cocks  began  to   crow  in    the   farm 
yards, 

Thinking  the  day  had   dawned ;  and  anon  the   lowing  of 
cattle      j 

Came  on  the  evening  bree/e,  by  the   barking  of  dogs  in 
terrupted. 

Then  rose  a  sound  of  dread,  such   as  startles  the  sleeping 
encampments 

Far  in  the  western   prairies  or   forests   that  skirt   the  Ne 
braska, 

When  the  wild  horses  affrighted  sweep  by  with  the  speed 
of  the  whirlwind, 

Or  the  loud  bellowing  herds  of  buffaloes  rush  to  the  river. 

Such  was  the  sound  that   arose  on  the  night,  as  the  herds 
and  the  horses 

Broke  through   their  folds  and  fences,  and  madly  rushed 
o'er  the  meadows. 

Overwhelmed  with  the  sight,  yet  speechless,  the  priest  and 
the  maiden 

Gazed  on   the  scene  of   terror  that  reddened  and  widened 
before  them  ; 

And  as  they  turned  at  length  to  speak  to  their  silent  com 
panion, 

Lo  !  from  his  seat  he  had  fallen,  and  stretched   abroad  on 
the  sea-shore 

Motionless  lay  his  form  from  which  the  soul  had  departed. 

Slowly  the  priest  uplifted  the  lifeless  head,  and  the  maiden 

Knelt  at  her  father's  side,  and  wailed  aloud  in  her  terror. 

Then  in   a  swoon  she  sank,  and  lay  with  her  head  on  his 
bosom. 

Through  the  long  night  she  lay  in  deep,  oblivious  slumber; 

And  when   she  woke  from  the  trance,  she  beheld  a  multi 
tude  near  her 

Faces  of  friends  she  beheld,  that  were  mournfully  gazing 
upon  her, 

Pallid,  with  tearful  eyes,  and  looks  of  saddest  compassion. 

Still  the  blaze  of  the  burning  village  illumined  the  land 
scape, 

Reddened  the  sky  overhead,   and  gleamed  on  the  faces 
around  her, 


54  E  V  A  NO  E  'LINE. 

And   like  the  day  of  doom    it  seemed  to  her  wavering 

senses, 

Then  a  familiar  voice  she  heard,  as  it  said  to  the  people  — 
"  Let  us  bury  him  here  by  the  sea.  When  a  happier  season 
Brings  us  again  to  our  homes  from  the  unknown  land  of 

our  exile, 
Then  shall   his  sacred   dust  be  piously  laid  in  the  church 

yard." 
Such  were  the  words  of  the  priest.     And  there  in  haste  by 

the  sea-side, 

Having  the  glare  of  the  burning  village  for  funeral  torches, 
But  without  bell  or  book,  they  buried  the  farmer  of  Grand- 

Pre.. 

And  as  the  voice  of  the  priest  repeated  the  service  of  sorrow, 
Lo  !  with  a  mournful  sound,  like  the  voice  of  a  vast  con 

gregation, 
Solemnly  answered  the  sea,  and  mingled  its  roar  with  the 

dirges. 
'T  was  the  returning  tide,  that  afar  from  the  waste  of  the 

ocean, 
With  the  first  dawn  of  the  day,  came  heaving  and  hurrying 

landward. 
Then  recommenced  once   more  the   stir  and  noise  of  em 

barking  ; 
And  with   the  ebb  of  that  tide  the  ships  sailed  out  of  the 


Leaving  behind  them  the  dead  on  the  shore,  and  the  village 
in  ruins. 


"  Having  the  glare  of  the  burning  village  for  funeral  torches. 
But  without  oell  or  book,  they  buried  the  farmer  of  Grand-Pr£." 


65 


..-£* 


'  Then  recommenced  once  more  the  stir  and  noise  of  embarking; 
And  with  th'j  ebb  of  that  tide  the  ships  sailed  out  of  the  harbor." 


EVANGELINB. 


"Lonjr  amoiitf  them  was  seen  a  maiden  who  waited  mid  wnnderad. 
Lowly  and  mu«k  in  spirit,  and  patiently  suffering  all  things." 


PART  THE  SECOND. 


I. 

MANY  a  weary  year  had  passed  since  the  burning  of  Grand- 

Pre, 

When  on  the  falling  tide  the  freighted  vessels  departed, 
Bearing  a  nation,  with  all  its  household  gods,  into  exile, 
Exile  without  an  end,  and  without  an  example  in  story. 
Far  asunder,  on  separate  coasts,  the  Acadians  landed; 
Scattered  were  they,  like  flakes  of  snow,  when  the  wind 

from  the  northeast  . 
Strikes  aslant  through  the  fogs  that  darken  the  Banks  of 

Newfoundland 


EVANOELINE,  57 

Friendless,  homeless,  hopeless,  they  wandered  from  city  1o 
city, 

From  the  cold  lakes  of  the  North  to  sultry  Southern 
savannas — 

From  the  bleak  shores  of  the  sea  to  the  lands  where  the 
Father  of  Waters 

Seizes  the  hills  in  his  hands,  and  drags  them  down  to  the 
ocean, 

Deep  in  their  sands  to  bury  the  scattered  bones  of  the 
mammoth. 

Friends  they  sought  and  homes;  and  many,  despairing, 
heart-broken, 

Asked  of  the  earth  but  a  grave,  and  no  longer  a  friend  nor 
a  fireside. 

Written  their  history  stands  on  tablets  of  stone  in  the 
church-yards. 

Long  among  them  was  seen  a  maiden  who  waited  and  wan 
dered, 

Lowly  and  meek  in  spirit,  and  patiently  suffering  all 
things. 

Fair  was  she  and  young;  but,  alas!  before  her  extended, 

Dreary  and  vast  and  silent,  the  desert  of  life,  with  its 
pathway 

Marked  by  the  graves  of  those  who  had  sorrowed  and  suf 
fered  before  her, 

Passions  long  extinguished,  and  hopes  long  dead  and  aban 
doned, 

As  the  emigrant's  way  o'er  the  Western  desert  is  marked  by 

Camp-fires  long  consumed,  and  bones  that  bleach  in  the 
sunshine. 

Something  there  was  in  her  life  incomplete,  imperfect,  un 
finished  ; 

As  if  a  morning  of  June,  with  all  its  music  and  sunshine, 

Suddenly  paused  in  the  sky,  and,  fading,  slowly  de 
scended 

Into  the  east  again,  from  whence  it  late  had  arisen. 

Sometimes  she  lingered  in  towns,  till,  urged  by  the  fever 
within  her, 

Urged  by  a  restless  longing,  the  hunger  and  thirst  of  the 
spirit, 

She  would  commence  again  her  endless  search  and  en 
deavor  ; 

Sometimes  in  church-yards  strayed,  and  gazed  on  the  crosses 
and  tombstones, 


58  EVANGELINE. 

Sat  by  some  nameless  grave,  and  thought  that  perhaps  in 

in  its  bosom 
He  was  already  at  rest,   and  she  longed  to  slumber  besid« 

him. 

Sometimes  a  rumor,  a  hearsay,  an  inarticulate  whisper, 
Came  with  its  airy  hand  to  point  and  beckon  her  forward. 
Sometimes  she  spake  with  those  who  had  seen  her  beloved 

and  known  him, 

But  it  was  long  ago,  in  some  far-off  place  or  forgotten. 
"  Gabriel  Lajeunesse  !"  said  they  ;  "  O,  yes  !  we  have  seen 

him. 
He  was  with  Basil  the  blacksmith,  and  both  have  gone  to 

the  prairies  ; 
Coureurs-des-Bois    are    they,    and    famous    hunters    and 

trappers," 
"Gabriel  Lajeunesse!"    said  others;    "  O,  yes!  we   have 

seen  him. 

He  is  a  Voyageur  in  the  lowlands  of  Louisiana." 
Then  would  they  say  :  "  Dear  child  !  why  dream  and  wait 

for  him  longer  ? 

Are  there  not  other  youths  as  fair  as  Gabriel  ?  others 
Who  have  hearts  as  tender  and  true,  and  spirits  as  loyal  ? 
Here  is  Baptiste  Leblanc,  the  notary's  son,  who  has  loved 

thee 
Many  a  tedious  year  ;  come,  give  him  thy  hand  and  be 

happy  1 

Thou  art  too  fair  to  be  left  to  braid  St.  Catherine's  tresses." 
Then   would  Evangeline   answer,  serenely  but   sadly — "  I 

cannot ! 
Whither  iny  heart  has  gone,  there  follows  my  hand,  and 

not  elsewhere. 
For  when  the  heart  goes  before,  like  a  lamp,  and  illumines 

the  pathway, 

Many  things  are  made  clear,  that  else  lie  hidden  in  dark 
ness." 

And  thereupon  the  priest,  her  friend  and  father- confessor, 
Said,  with  a  smile — "  O  daughter  I  thy  God  thus  speaketh 

within  thee  ! 

Talk  not  of  wasted  affection,  affection  never  was  wasted  ; 
If  it  enrich  not  the  heart  of  another,  its  waters,  returning 
Back  to  their  springs,  like  the  rain,  shall  fill  them  full  of 

refreshment ; 
That  which  the  fountain  sends  forth  returns  again  to  the 

fountain. 


EVANGELINE.  59 

Patience ;  accomplish  thy  labor;  accomplish  thy  work  ol 
affection  ! 

Sorrow  and  silence  are  strong,  and  patient  endurance  is 
godlike. 

Therefore  accomplish  thy  labor  of  love,  till  the  heart  is 
made  godlike, 

Purified,  strengthened,  perfected,  and  rendered  more 
worthy  of  heaven  !" 

Cheered  by  the  good  man's  words,  Evangeline  labored  and 
waited. 

Still  in  her  heart  she  heard  the  funeral  dirge  of  the  ocean, 

But  with  its  sound  there  was  mingled  a  voice  that  whis 
pered,  "  Despair  not !" 

Thus  did  that  poor  soul  wander  in  want  and  cheerless  dis 
comfort, 

Bleeding,  barefooted,  over  the  shards  and  thorns  of  ex 
istence. 

Let  me  essay,  0  Muse  !  to  follow  the  wanderer's  footsteps  ; 

Not  through  each  devious  path,  each  changeful  year  of 
existence  ; 

But  as  a  traveler  follows  a  streamlet's  course  through  the 
valley  ; 

Far  from  its  margin  at  times,  and  seeing  the  gleam  of  its 
water 

Here  and  there,  in  some  open  space,  and  at  intervals  only  : 

Then  drawing  nearer  its  banks,  through  sylvan  glooms 
that  conceal  it, 

Though  he  behold  it  not,  he  can  hear  its  continuous  mur 
mur  ; 

Happy,  at  length,  if  he  find  the  spot  where  it  reaches  an 
outlet. 


60 


BVANGELINE. 


'  Into  the  golden  stream  of  the  broad  and  swift 
Floated  a  cumbrous  boat,  that  was  rowed  by  Acadian 


n. 

IT  WAS  the  month  of  May.     Far  down  the  Beautiful  River, 

Past  the  Ohio  shore  and  past  the  mouth  of  the  Wabash, 

Into  the  golden  stream  of  the  broad  and  swift  Mississippi, 

Floated  a  cumbrous  boat,  that  was  rowed  by  Acadian  boat 
men. 

It  was  a  band  of  exiles;  a  raft,  as  it  were,  from  the  ship 
wrecked 

Nation,  scattered  along  the  coast,  now  floating  together, 

Bound  by  the  bonds  of  a  common  l>elief  and  a  common 
misfortune; 

Men  and  women  and  children,  who,  guided  by  hope  or  by 
hearsay, 

Sought  for  their  kith  and  their  kin  among  the  few-acred 
farmers 

On  the  Acadian  coast,  and  the  prairies  of  fair  Opelousas. 

With  them  Evangeline  went,  and  her  guide,  the  Father 
Felician. 

Onward,  o'er  sunken  sands,  through  a  wilderness  somber 
with  forests, 

Day  after  day  they  glided  adown  the  turbulent  river; 

Night  after  night,  by  their  blazing  fires,  encai&ped  on  its 
borders, 

Now  through  rushing  chutes,  among  green  islands,  where 
plumelike 


EVANOELINE. 


61 


*  Now  through  cashing  chutes,  among  green  islands,  where  plume-like 
Cotton-trees  nodded  their  shadowy  crests,  they  swept  with  the  curreiiu 


62  EVANOELINE. 

Cotton-trees  nodded  their  shadowy  crests,  they  swept  with 
the  current, 

Then  emerged  into  broad  lagoons,  where  silvery  sand-bars 

Lay  in  the  stream,  and  along  the  wimpling  waves  of  their 
margin, 

Shining  with  snow-white  plumes,  large  flocks  of  pelicans 
waded. 

Level  the  landscape  grew,  and  along  the  shores  of  the 
river, 

Shaded  by  china-trees,  in  the  midst  of  luxuriant  gardens, 

Stood  the  houses  of  planters,  with  negro-cabins  and  dove 
cots. 

They  were  approaching  the  region  where  reigns  perpetual 
summer, 

Where  through  the  Golden  Coast,  and  groves  of  orange 
and  citron, 

Sweeps  with  majestic  curve  the  river  away  to  the  east 
ward. 

They,  too,  swerved  from  their  course;  and,  entering  the 
Bayou  of  Plaquemine, 

Soon  were  lost  in  a  maze  of  sluggish  and  devious  waters, 

Which,  like  a  network  of  steel,  extended  in  every  direc 
tion. 

Over  their  heads  the  towering  and  tenebrous  boughs  of  the 
cypress 

Met  in  a  dusky  arch,  and  trailing  mosses  in  mid-air 

Waved  like  banners  that  hang  on  the  walls  of  ancient 
cathedrals. 

Deathlike  the  silence  seemed,  and  unbroken,  save  by  the 
herons 

Home  to  their  roosts  in  the  cedar-trees  returning  at  sunset, 

Or  by  the  owl,  as  he  greeted  the  moon  with  demoniac 
laughter. 

Lovely  the  moonlight  was  as  it  glanced  and  gleamed  on 
the  water, 

Gleamed  on  the  columns  of  cypress  and  cedar  sustaining 
the  arches, 

Down  through  whose  broken  vaults  rt  fell  as  through 
chinks  in  a  ruin. 

Dreamlike,  and  indistinct,  and  strange  were  all  things 
around  them; 

And  o'er  their  spirits  there  came  a  feeling  of  wonder  Shd 
sadness — 

Strange  forebodings  of  ill,  unseen  and  that  cannot  be  com 
passed. 


EVANOELINE. 


63 


Lovely  the  moonlight  was  as  it  glanced  and  gleamed  on  the  water.' 


64  EVANGELINE. 

As,    at   the   tramp   of  a  horse's  hoof  on  the  turf  of  the 

prairies, 
Far  in   advance   are   closed   the   leaves  of  the  shrinking 

mimosa, 

So,  at  the  hoof-beats  of  fate,  with  sad  forebodings  of  evil, 
Shrinks  and  closes  the  heart,  ere   the   stroke  of  doom  has 

attained  it. 
But   Evangeline's  heart  was   sustained   by   a  vision,  that 

faintly 
Floated  before  her  eyes,  and  beckoned  her  on  through  the 

moonlight. 
It  was  the  thought  of  her  brain  that  assumed  the  shape  of 

a  phantom. 

Through  those  shadowy  aisles   had  Gabriel  wandered  be 
fore  her, 
And  every  stroke  of  the  oar  now  brought  him   nearer  and 

nearer. 
Then  in  his  place,  at  the  prow  of  the  boat,  rose  one  of  the 

oarsmen, 

And,  as  a  signal  sound,  if  others  like  them  peradventure 
Sailed  on  those  gloomy  and  midnight  streams,  blew  a  blast 

on  his  bugle. 
Wild  through  the  dark  colonnades  and  corridors  leafy  the 

blast  rang, 
Breaking  the   seal   of  silence,  and   giving   tongues  to  the 

forest. 
Soundless  above  them  the  banners  of  moss  just  stirred  to 

the  music. 

Multitudinous  echoes  awoke  and  died  in  the  distance, 
Over   the    watery    floor,    and     beneath    the    reverberant 

branches  ; 

But  not   a  voice   replied  ;  no  answer   came  from  the  dark 
ness  ; 
And  when  the  echoes  had  ceased,  like  a   sense  of  pain  was 

the  silence. 
Then  Evangeline  slept  ;  but   the  boatmen   rowed  through 

the  midnight, 

Silent  at  times,  then  singing  familiar  Canadian  boat-songs, 
Such  as  they  sang  of  old  on  their  own  Acadian  rivers, 
And  through  the  night  were  heard  the   mysterious  sounds 

of  the  desert, 

Far  off,  indistinct,  as  of  wave  or  wind  in  the  forest, 
Mixed  with  the  whoop  of  the   crane  and  the  roar  of  the 

grim  alligator. 


EVANGELINE. 


65 


Thus  ere  another  noon  they  emerged  from   those  shades  ; 

and  before  them 

Lay,  in  the  golden  sun,  the  lakes  of  the  Atchafalaya.  , 

Water-lilies  in  myriads  rocked  on  the  slight  undulations 
Made  by  the  passing  oars,  and,  resplendent  in  beauty,  the 

lotus 


Lifted  her  golden  crown  above  the  heads  of  the 
Faint  was  the   air   with   the   odorous  breath   of  magnolia 
blossoms, 


"  Resplendent  in  beauty,  the  lotus 
Lifted  her  golden  crown  above  the  heads  of  the  boatmen." 


And  with  the  heat  of  noon ;  and  numberless  sylvau 
islands, 

Fragrant  and  thickly  embowered  with  blossoming  hedges 
of  roses, 

Near  to  whose  shores  they  glided  along,  invited  to  slumber. 

Soon  by  the  fairest  of  these  their  weary  oars  were  sus 
pended. 

Under  the  boughs  of  Waehita  willows,  that  grew  by  the 
margin, 


90  EVANG^LINE. 

Safely  their  boat  was  moored  ;  and  scattered  auout  or.  tl?«s 
greensward, 

Tired  with  their  midnight  toil,  the  weary  travelers  slum 
bered. 

Over  them  vast  and  high  extended  the  cope  of  a  cedar. 

Swinging  from  its  great  arms,  the  trumpet-flower  and  the 
grape-vine 

Hung  their  ladder  of  ropes  aloft  like  the  ladder  of  Jacob, 

On  whose  pendulous  stairs  the  angels  ascending,  de 
scending, 

Were  the  swift  humming-birds,  that  flitted  from  blossom 
to  blossom. 

Such  was  the  vision  Evangeline  saw  as  she  slumbered  be 
neath  it. 

Filled  was  her  heart  with  love,  and  the  dawn  of  an  open 
ing  heaven 

Lighted  her  soul  in  sleep  with  the  glory  of  regions 
celestial. 

Nearer  and  ever  nearer,  among  the  numberless  islands, 

Darted  a  light,  swift  boat,  that  sped  away  o'er  the  water, 

Urged  on  its  course  by  the  sinewy  arms  of  hunters  and 
trappers. 

Northward  its  prow  was  turned,  to  the  land  of  the  bison 
and  beaver. 

At  the  helm  sat  a  youth,  with  countenance  thoughtful  and 
careworn. 

Dark  and  neglected  locks  overshadowed  his  brow,  and  a 
sadness 

Somewhat  beyond  his  years  on  his  face  was  legibly  written. 

Gabriel  was  it,  who,  weary  with  waiting,  unhappy  and 
restless, 

Sought  in  the  Western  wilds  oblivion  of  self  and  of 
sorrow. 

Swiftly  they  glided  along,  close  under  the  lee  of  the  island, 

But  by  the  opposite  bank,  and  behind  a  screen  of  palmettos, 

So  that  they  saw  not  the  boat,  where  it  lay  concealed  in  the 
willows, 

And  undisturbed  by  the  dash  of  their  oars,  and  unseen, 
were  the  sleepers  ; 

Angel  of  God  was  there  none  to  awaken  the  slumbering 
maiden. 

Swiftly  they  glided  away,  like  the  shade  of  a  cloud  on  the 
prairie. 

After  the  sound  of  their  oars  on  the  tholes  had  died  in  the 
distance, 


67 


Safely  their  boat  was  moored;  and  scattered  about  on  tke  jfreensward, 
Tired  with  their  midnight  toil,  the  weary  travelers  slumbered," 


68  EVANGELINE. 

As   from  a  magic   trance   the   sleepers  awoke,   and    the 

maiden 
Said  with  a  sigh  to  the  friendly  priest — "O  Father  Fel- 

ician  ! 

Something  says  in  my  heart  that  near  me  Gabriel  wanders. 
Is  it  a  foolish  dream,  an  idle  and  vague  superstition  V 
Or   has   an   angel    passed,  and   revealed   the   truth  to  my 

spirit  ?  " 
Then,  with  a  blush,  she  added — "Alas  for  my  credulous 

fancy  ! 

Unto  ears  like  thine  such  words  as  these  have  no  meaning. " 
But  made  answer  the  reverend   man,  and   he  smiled  as  he 

answered — 
"Daughter,  thy  words  are   not  idle ;  nor  are  they  to  me 

without  meaning. 
Feeling  is  deep  and   still;  and  the  word  that   floats  on  the 

surface 
Is  as  the  tossing  buoy,  that  betrays   where  the   anchor  is 

hidden. 
Therefore  trust  to  thy  heart,  and  to  what  the   world  calls 

illusions. 

Gabriel  truly  is  near  thee;   for  not   far  away  to  the  south 
ward, 
On  the  banks  of  the  Teche,  are  the  towns  of  St.  Maur  and 

St.  Martin. 
There  the  long- wandering  bride  shall  be  given  again  to  her 

bridegroom, 

There  the  long-absent  pastor  regain  his  flock  and  his  sheep- 
fold. 

Beautiful  is  the  land,  with  its  prairies  and  forests  of  fruit- 
trees  ; 
Under  the  feet  a  garden  of   flowers,  and  the  bluest  of 

heavens 
Bending  above,  and  resting  its  dome  on  the  walls  of  the 

forest. 
They    who    dwell    there    have    named    it  the    Eden    of 

Louisiana." 
And  with  these  words  of  cheer   they  arose  and  continued 

their  journey. 
Softly    the    evening  came.     The   sun   from  the   western 

horizon 
Like  a  magician  extended  his  golden  wand  o'er  the  land- 

scape  ; 
Twinkling  vapors  arose  ;  and  sky  and  water  and  forest 


EVANGELINE. 


'  Nearer,  and  ever  nearer,  among  the  numberless  islands, 
Darted  a  light,  swift  boat,  that  sped  away  o'*r  the  water." 


70  EVANGELINE. 

Seemed  all  on  fire  at  the  touch,  and  melted  and  mingled 
together. 

Hanging  between  two  skies,  a  cloud  with  edges  of  silver, 

Floated  the  boat,  with  its  dripping  oars,  on  the  motionless 
water. 

Filled  was  Evangeline's  heart  with  inexpressible  sweet 
ness. 

Touched  by  the  magic  spell,  the  sacred  fountains  of  feeling 

Glowed   with   the   light  of  love,  as   the  skies  and  waters 
around  her. 

Then  from  a  neighboring  thicket  the  mocking-bird,  wildest 
of  singers, 

Swinging  aloft  on  a  willow  spray  that  hung  o'er  the  water, 

Shook  from  his  little  throat  such  floods  of  delirious  music, 

That  the  whole  air  and  the  woods  and  the  waves  seemed 
silent  to  listen. 

Plaintive  at  first  were  the  tones  and  sad  ;  then   soaring  to 
madness 

Seemed  they  to  follow  or  guide  the  revel  of  frenzied  Bac 
chantes. 

Single  notes  were  then  heard,  in  sorrowful,  low  lamen 
tation  ; 

Till,  having  gathered  them  all,  he  flung  them  abroad  in 
derision, 

As  when,  after  a  storm,  a  gust  of  wind  through  the  tree- 
tops 

Shakes  down  the  rattling  rain  in  a  crystal  shower  on  the 
branches. 

With  such  a  prelude  as  this,  and  hearts  that  throbbed  with 
emotion, 

Slowly  they  entered  the  Teche,  where  it  flows  through  the 
green  Opelousas, 

And  through  the  amber  air,  above  the  crest  of  the  wood 
land, 

Saw  the  column  of  smoke  that  arose  from  a  neighboring 
dwelling; 

Sounds  of  a  horn  they  heard,  and  the  distant  lowing  of 
cattle. 


EVANGELINE. 


71 


"  The  house  itself  was  of  timbers 
Hewn  from  the  cypress-tree,  and  carefully  fitted  together." 


III. 

NEAR  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  o'ershadowed  by  oaks,  from 

whose  branches 

Garlands  of  Spanish  moss  and  of  mystic  mistletoe  flaunted. 
Such  as  the  Druids  cut  down  with  golden  hatchets  at  Yule- 
tide, 
Stood,  secluded  and  still,  the  house  of  the  herdsman.     A 

garden 

Girded  it  round  about  with  a  belt  of  luxuriant  blossoms, 
Filling  the  air  with  fragrance.     The  house  itself  was  of 

timbers 

Hewn  from  the  cypress-tree,  and  carefully  fitted  together. 
Large  and  low  was  the  roof  ;  and  on  slender  columns  sup 
ported. 

Rose-wreathed,  vine-encircled,  a  broad  and  spacious  veranda, 
Haunt  of  the  humming-bird  and  the  bee,  extended  around  it 
At  each  end  of  the  house,  amid  the  flowers  of  the  garden, 
Stationed  the  dove-cots  were,  as  love's  perpetual  symbol, 
Scenes  of  endless  wooing,  and  endless  contentions  of 
rivals, 


72  RVANGELINE. 

Silence  reigned  o'er  the  place.  The  line  of  shadow  and 
sunshine 

Ran  near  the  tops  of  the  trees;  but  the  house  itself  was  in 
shadow, 

And  from  its  chimney-top,  ascending  and  slowly  expanding 

Into  the  evening  air,  a  thin  blue  column  of  smoke  rose. 

In  the  rear  of  the  house,  from  the  garden  gate,  ran  a  path 
way 

Through  the  great  groves  of  oak  to  the  skirts  of  the  limit 
less  prairie, 

Into  whose  sea  of  flowers  the  sun  was  slowly  descending 

Full  in  his  track  of  light,  like  ships  with  shadowy  canvas 

Hanging  loose  from  their  spars  in  a  motionless  calm  in  the 
tropics, 

Stood  a  cluster  of  trees,  with  tangled  cordage  of  grape 
vines. 

Just  where  the  woodlands  met  the  flowery  surf  of  the 

prairie, 

Mounted  upon  his  horse,  with  Spanish  saddle  and  stirrups, 
Sat  a  herdsman,  arrayed  in  gaiters  and  doublet  of  deerskin. 
Broad  and  brown  was  the  face  that  from  under  the  Spanish 

sombrero 
Gazed  on  the  peaceful  scene,  with  the  lordly  look  of  its 

master. 
Round  about  him  were  numberless  herds  of  kine,  that  were 

grazing 

Quietly  in  the  meadows,  and  breathing  the  vapory  freshness 
That  uprose  from  the  r'wer,  and  spread  itself  over  the  land 

scape. 

Slowly  lifting  the  horn  that  hung  at  his  side,  and  ex 
panding 

Fully  his  broad,  deep  chest,  he  blew  a  blast,  that  resounded 
Wildly  and  sweet  and  far,  through  the  still  damp  air  of  the 

evening. 

Suddenly  out  of  the  grass  the  long  white  horns  of  the  cattle 
Rose  like  flakes  of  foam  on  the  adverse  currents  of  ocean. 
Silent  a  moment  they  gazed,  then  bellowing  rushed  o'er  the 

prairie, 

And  the  whole  mass  became  a  cloud,  a  shade  in  the  distance. 
Then,  as  the  herdsman  turned  to  the  house,  through  the 

gate  of  the  garden 
Saw  he  the  forms  of  the  priest   and  the  maiden  advancing 

to  meet  him. 


EVANGELINE.  73 

Suddenly  down  from  his  horse  he  sprang  in  amazement 

and  forward 

Rushed  with  extended  arms  and  exclamations  of  wonder; 
When  they  beheld  his  face,  they  recognized  Basil  the  Black 

smith. 

Hearty  his  welcome  was,  as  he  led  his  guests  to  the  garden, 
There   in    an    arbor   of  roses   with  endless   question   anc 

answer 


"  Suddenly  out  of  the  grass  the  long  white  horns  of  the  cattle 
Rose  like  flakes  of  foam  on  the  adverse  currentsof  ocean." 


Gave  they  vent  to  their  hearts,  and  renewed  their  friendly 
embraces, 

Laughing  and  weeping  by  turns,  or  sitting  silent  and 
thoughtful. 

Thoughtful,  for  Gabriel  came  not;  and  now  dark  doubts 
and  misgivings 

Stole  o'er  the  maiden's  heart;  and  Basil,  somewhat  embar 
rassed. 


74  EVANGELINE. 

Broke  the  silence  and  said — "  If  you  come  by  the  Atcha- 

falaya, 
How  have  you  nowhere  encountered  my  Gabriel's  boat  on 

the  bayous?" 

Over  Evangeline's  face  at  the  words  of  Basil  a  shade  passed. 
Tears  caine  into  her  eyes,  and  she  said,  with  a  tremulous 

accent — 
"  Gone?  is  Gabriel  gone?"  and,  concealing  her  face  on  his 

shoulder, 
All  her  o'erburdened   heart   gave  way,  and   she  wept  and 

lamented. 
Then  the  good  Basil  said — and  his  voice  grew  blithe  as  he 

said  it — 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  child;  it  is  only  to-day  he  departed. 
Foolish  boy!  he  has  left  me  alone  with  my  herds  and  my 

horses. 
Moody  and  restless  grown,   and  tried  and  troubled,  his 

spirit 

Could  no  longer  endure  the  calm  of  this  quiet  existence. 
Thinking  ever  of  thee,  uncertain  and  sorrowful  ever, 
Ever  silent,  or  speaking  only  of  thee  and  his  troubles, 
He  at  length  had  become  so  tedious  to  men  and  to  maidens, 
Tedious  even  to  me,  that  at  length  I  bethought  me  and 

sent  him, 
Unto  the  town  of   Adayes  to  trade  for  mules  with  the 

Spaniards. 
Thence  he  will   follow  the  Indian   trails  to  the    Ozark 

Mountains, 
Hunting   for   furs   in   the  forests,  on  rivers  trapping  the 

beaver. 
Therefore  be  of  good  cheer;  we   will    follow  the  fugitive 

lover; 
He  is  not  far  on  his  way,  and  the  Fates  and  the  streams  are 

against  him. 
Dp  and  away  to-morrow,  and  through  the  red  dew  of  the 

mdrning 
We  will   follow  him   fast    and   bring  him   back   to    his 

prison." 

Then  glad  voices  were  heard,  and   up  from  the  banks  of 

the  river, 

.    Borne   aloft   on    his  comrades'   arms,    came    Michael   the 
fiddler. 

Long  under  Basil's  roof  had  he  lived  like  a  god  on  Olym 
pus, 


EVANGELINE.  75 

Having  no  other  care  than  dispensing  music  to  mortals, 
Far  renowned  was  he  for  his  silver  locks  and  his  fiddle. 
"Long  live  Michael,"  they  cried,  "our  brave  Acadian 

minstrel!" 
As  they   bore   him   aloft   in    triumphal    procession;    and 

straightway 
Father  Felician  advanced   with  Evangeline,  greeting  the 

old  man 


"  '  Long  live  Michael,'  they  cried, '  our  brave  Acadian  minstrel!' 
As  they  bore  him  aloft  in  triumphal  procession." 


Kindly  and  oft,  and  recalling  the  past,  while  Basil,  enrap 
tured, 

Hailed  with  hilarious  joy  his  old  companions  and  gossips; 

Laughing  loud  and  long,  and  embracing  mothers  and 
daughters. 

Much  they  marveled  to  see  the  wealth  of  the  ci-devant 
blacksmith, 

All  his  domains  and  his  herds,  and  his  patriarchial  de 
meanor; 


76  EVANGELINE. 

Much  they  marveled  to  hear  his  tales  of  the  soil  and  the 

climate, 
And  of  the  prairies,  whose  numberless  herds  were  his  who 

would  take  them; 
Each  one  thought  in  his  heart,  that  he,  too,  would  go  and 

do  likewise. 
Thus    they  ascended   the  steps,   and,   crossing  the    airy 

veranda, 
Entered  the  hall  of  the  house,  where  already  the  supper 

of  Basil 
Waited   his   late    return;    and    they  rested    and    feasted 

together. 

Over  the  joyous  feast  the  sudden  darkness  descended. 

All  was  silent  without,  and  illuming   the   landscape  with 

silver, 
Fair  rose  the  dewy  moon  and  the  myriad  stars;  hut  within 

doors, 

Brighter  than  these,  shone  the  faces  of  friends  in  the  glim 
mering  lamplight. 
Then  from  his  station  aloft,  at   the  head  of  the  table,  the 

herdsman 
Poured  forth  his  heart  and  his  wine  together  in  endless 

profusion. 
.Lighting  his  pipe,  that  was  filled  with  sweet  Natchitoches 

tobacco, 
'Thus  he  spake  to  his  guests,  who  listened,  and  smiled  as 

they  listened: 
"'  Welcome  once  more,  my  friends,  who  so  long  have  been 

friendless  and  homeless, 
Welcome  once  more  to  a  home,  that  is  better  perchance 

than  the  old  one! 

Here  no  hungry  winter  congeals  our  blood  like  the  rivers; 
Here  no  stony  ground  provokes  the  wrath  of  the  farmer. 
Smoothly   the   plowshare  runs  through  the  soil  as  a  keel 

through  the  water. 
All  the  year  round  the  orange-groves  are  in  blossom;  and 

grass  grows 

More  in  a  single  night  than  a  whole  Canadian  summer. 
Here,  too,  numberless  herds  run  wild  and  unclaimed  in  the 

prairies; 
Here,  too,  lands  may  be  had  for  the  asking,  and  forests  of 

timber 
With  a  few  blows  of  the  ax  are  hewn  and  framed  into 

houses. 


EVANGELINE.  -ft 

After  your  houses  are  built,  and  your  fields  are  yellow  with 

harvests, 
No  King  George  of  England  shall   drive  you   away  from 

your  homesteads, 
Burning  your  dwellings  and  barns,  and  stealing  your  farms 

and  your  cattle." 
Speaking  these  words,  he  blew  a  wrathful  cloud   from  his 

nostrils, 
And  his  huge,  brawny  hand  came  thundering  down  on  the 

table, 

So  that  the  guests  all  started;   and  Father   Felician,   as 
tounded, 
Suddenly  paused,   with  a  pinch  of  snuff  half-way  to  his 

nostrils. 
But  the  brave  Basil  resumed,  and  his  words  were  milder 

and  gayer — 
"  Only  beware  of  the  fever,  my  friends,  beware  of  the 

fever! 

For  it  is  not  like  that  of  our  cold  Acadian  climate, 
Cured  by  wearing  a   spider  hung  round  one's  neck  in  a 

nutshell!" 
Then  there  were  voices  heard  at  the  door,   and  footsteps 

approaching 

Sounded  upon  the  stairs  and  the  floor  of  the  breezy  veranda. 
It  was  the  neighboring  Creoles  and  small  Acadian  planters, 
Who  had  been  summoned  all  to  the  house  of  Basil  the 

Herdsman. 

Merry  the  meeting  was  of  ancient  comrades  and  neighbors; 
Friend  clasped  friend  in  his  arms;  and  they  who  before 

were  as  strangers, 
Meeting  in  exile,  became  straightway  as  friends  to  each 

other, 

Drawn  by  the  gentle  bond  of  a  common  country  together. 
But  in  the  neighboring  hall  a  strain  of  music,  proceeding 
From  the  accordant  strings  of  Michael's  melodious  fiddle, 
Broke  up  all  further  speech.  Away,  like  children  delighted, 
All   things  forgotten   beside,  they  gave  themselves  to  the 

maddening 
Whirl  of  the  dizzy  dance,  as  it  swept  and  swayed  to  the 

music, 
Dreamlike,  with  beaming  eyes  and  the  rush  of  fluttering 

garments. 
Meanwhile,  apart,  at  the  head  of  the  hall,  the  priest  and 

the  herdsman 


78  E  V  ANGELINA. 

Sat,  conversing  together  of  past  and  present  and  future; 
While  Evangeline  stood  like  one  entranced,  for  within  her 
Olden  memories  rose,  and  loud  in  the  midst  of  the  music 
Heard  she  the  sound  of  the  sea,  and  an  irrepressible  sadness 
Came   o'er  her  heart,  and  unseen  she  stole  forth  into  the 

garden. 
Beautiful  was  the  night.     Behind  the  black  wall  of  the 

forest, 
Tipping  its  summit  with  silver,  arose  the  moon.     On  the 

river 
Fell   here   and  there  through  the   branches  a  tremulous 

gleam  of  the  moonlight, 
Like  the  sweet  thoughts  of  love  on  a  darkened  and  devious 

spirit. 
Nearer  and  round  about  her,  the  manifold  flowers  of  the 

garden 
Poured  out  their  souls  in  odors,  that  were  their  prayers  and 

confessions 

Unto  the  night,  as  it  went  its  way,  like  a  silent  Carthusian 
Fuller  of  fragrance  than  they,  and  as  heavy  with  shadows 

and  night- dews, 
Hung  the  heart  of  the  maiden.     The  calm  and  the  magical 

moonlight 

Seemed  to  inundate  her  soul  with  indefinable  longings, 
As,  through  the  garden  gate,  beneath  the  brown  shade  of 

the  oak-trees, 
Passed  she  along  the  path  to  the  edge  of  the  measureless 

prairie. 

Silent  it  lay,  with  a  silvery  haze  upon  it,  and  the  fire-flies 
Gleaming    and    floating   away    in    mingled    and    infinite 

numbers. 
Over    her    head    the  stars,  the  thoughts  of  God  in  the 

heavens, 
Shone  on  the  eyes  of  man,  who  had  ceased  to  marvel  and 

worship, 
Save  when  a  blazing  comet  was  seen  on  the  walls  of  that 

temple, 
As    if    a    hand    had    appeared  and  written  upon  them, 

"Upharsin." 

And  the  soul  of  the  maiden,  between  the  stars  and  the  fire 
flies, 

Wandered  alone,  and  she  cried — "O  Gabriel!     O  my  be 
loved  1 
Art  thou  so  near  unto  me,  and  yet  I  cannot  behold  thee? 


EVANGELINB.  79 

Art  tUou  so  near  unto  me,  and  yet  thy  voice  does  not 
reach  me? 

Ah  !  how  often  thy  feet  have  trod  this  path  to  the  prairie  ! 

Ah  !  how  often  thine  eyes  have  looked  on  the  woodlands 
around  me  ! 

Ah  !  how  often  beneath  this  oak,  returning  from  labor, 

Thou  hast  lain  down  to  rest,  and  to  dream  of  me  in  thy 
slumbers. 

When  shall  these  eyes  behold,  these  arms  be  folded  about 
thee  ?  " 

Loud  and  sudden  and  near  the  note  of  a  whippoorwill 
sounded 

Like  a  flute  in  the  woods;  and  anon,  through  the  neighbor 
ing  thickets, 

Farther  and  farther  away  it  floated  and  dropped  into 
silence. 

"Patience!"  whispered  the  oaks  from  oracular  caverns  of 
darkness; 

And,  from  the  moonlit  meadow,  a  sigh  responded,  "To 
morrow  !" 

Bright  rose  the  sun  next  day;  and  all  the  flowers  of  the 

garden 
Bathed  his  shining  feet  with  their  tears,  and  anointed  his 

tresses 
With  the  delicious  balm  that  they   bore  in   their  vases  of 

crystal. 
"Farewell!"  said  the  priest,  as   he  stood   at  the   shadowy 

threshold; 
"See  that  you  bring  us  the  Prodigal  Son   from  his  fasting 

and  famine, 

And,  too,  the  Foolish  Virgin,  who   slept  when   the  bride 
groom  was  coming." 
"Farewell!"  answered  the  maiden,  and,  smiling,  with  Basil 

descended 
Down  to  the  river's  brink,  where  the  boatmen  already  were 

waiting. 
Thus  beginning  their  journey  with  morning,  and  sunshine 

and  gladness, 
Swiftly  they  followed  the  flight  of  him  who  was  speeding 

before  them, 

Blown  by  the  blast  of  fate  like  a  dead  leaf  over  the  desert. 
Not  that  day,  nor  the  next,  nor  yet  the  day  that  succeeded, 
Found  the}  trace  of  his  course,  in  lake  or  forest  or  river, 


80 


EVANGELINE. 


Nor,  after  many  days,  had  they  found  him;  but  vague  and 
uncertain 

Rumors  alone  were  their  guides  through  a  wild  and  deso 
late  country, 

Till,  at  the  little  inn  of  the  Spanish  town  of  Adayes, 

Weary  and  worn,  they  alighted,  and  learned  from  the 
garrulous  landlord, 

rhat  on  the  day  before,  with  horses  and  guides  and  com 
panions, 

Gabriel  left  the  village,  and  kx»k  the  road  of  the  prairies. 


"  With  horses,  and  guides,  and  companions, 
Gabriel  left  tiie  village,  and  took  the  road  of  the  prairies." 


BVANGELIN& 


81 


1  Into  this  wonderful  land,  at  the  base  of  tne  Ozarfc  Mountains, 
Gabriel  far  had  entered,  with  hunters  auu  trappers  Dehind  Him." 


IV. 

FAR  in  the  West  there  lies  a  desert  land,  where  the  moun 
tains 
Lift,  through  perpetual  snows,  their  lofty  and  luminous 

summits. 
Down  from  their  jagged,   deep  ravines,  where  the  gorge, 

like  a  gateway, 
Opens   a  passage  rude  to  the    wheels  of  the  emigrant's 

wagon, 
Westward   the    Oregon    flows    and    the    Walleway    and 

Owyhee. 
Eastward,   with  devious  course,    among  the  Wind- river 

Mountains, 
Through  the  Sweet-water  Valley    precipitate    leaps  the 

Nebraska; 


82  EVANQELINE. 

And  to  the  south,  from  Fontaine-qui-bout  and  the  Spanish 
sierras, 

Fretted  with  sands  and  rocks,  and  swept  by  the  wind  of 
the  desert, 

Numberless  torrents,  with  ceaseless  sound,  descend  to  the 
ocean, 

Like  the  great  chords  of  a  harp,  in  loud  and  solemn  vibra 
tions. 

Spreading  between  these  streams  are  the  wondrous,  beau 
tiful  prairies, 

Billowy  bays  of  grass  ever  rolling  m  shadow  and  sunshine, 

Bright  with  luxuriant  clusters  of  roses  and  purple  am- 
orphas. 

Over  them  wander  the  buffalo  herds,  and  the  elk  and  th« 
roebuck; 

Over  them  wander  the  wolves,  and  herds  of  riderless 
horses; 

Fires  that  blast  and  blight,  and  winds  that  are  weary  with 
travel; 

Over  them  wander  the  scattered  tribes  of  Islimael's  children, 

Staining  the  desert  with  blood;  and  above  their  terrible 
war-trails 

Circles  and  sails  aloft,  on  pinions  majestic,  the  vulture, 

Like  the  implacable  soul  of  a  chieftain  slaughtered  in 
battle, 

By  invisible  stairs  ascending  and  scaling  the  heavens. 

Here  and  there  rise  smokes  from  the  camps  of  these  savage 
marauders; 

Here  and  there  rise  groves  froni  the  margins  of  swift-run 
ning  rivers; 

And  the  grim,  taciturn  bear,  the  anchorite  monk  of  the 
desert, 

Climbs  down  their  dark  ravines  to  dig  for  roots  by  the 
brook-side, 

And  over  all  is  the  sky,  the  clear  and  crystalline  heaven, 

Like  the  protecting  hand  of  God  inverted  above  them. 

Into  this  wonderful  land,  at  the  base  of  the  Ozark  Moun 
tains, 

Gabriel  far  had  entered,  with  hunters  and  trappers  behind 
him. 

Day  after  day,  with  their  Indian  guides,  the  maiden  and 
Basil 

Followed  his  flying  steps,  and  thought  each  day  to  o'ertako 
him. 


EVANGELINE.  83 

Sometimes  they  saw,  or  thought  they  saw,  the  smoke  of 

his  camp-fire 
Rise  in   the   morning   air  from   the  distant  plain;   but  at 

nightfall, 
When  they  had  reached  the  place,  they  found  only  embers 

and  ashes. 
And,  though  their  hearts  were  sad  at  times  and  their  bodies 

were  weary, 

Hope  still  guided  them  on,  as  the  magic  Fata  Morgana 
Showed  them  her  lakes  of  light,  that  retreated  and  varnished 

before  them. 

Once,   as  they  sat  by  their  evening  fire,   there    silently 
entered 

Into  the  little  camp  an  Indian  woman,  whose  features 

Wore  deep  traces  of  sorrow,  and  patience  as  great  as  her 
sorrow. 

She  was  a  Shawnee  woman  returning  home  to  her  people, 

From  the  far-off  hunting-grounds  of  the  cruel  Camanches, 

Where   her    Canadian   husband,  a   Coureur-des-Bois,    had 
been  murdered. 

Touched  were  their  hearts   at   her  story,  and  warmest  and 
.  friendliest  welcom^ 

Gave  they,  with  words  of  cheer,  and  she  sat  and  feasted 
among  them 

On  the  bufialo  meat  and  the  vension  cooked  on  the  embers. 

But  when  their  meal  was  done,  and  Basil  and  all  his  com 
panions, 

Worn  with  the  long  day's  march  and  the  chase  of  the  deer 
and  the  bison, 

Stretched  themselves  on  the  ground,  and  slept  where  the 
quivering  fire-light 

Flashed  on  their  swarthy  cheeks,  and  their  forms  wrapped 
up  in  their  blankets, 

Then  at  the  door  of  Evangelkie's  tent  she  sat  and  repeated 

Slowly,  with  soft,  low  voice,  and  the  charm  of  her  Indian 
accent, 

All  the  tale  of  her  love,  with  its  pleasures,  and  pains,  and 
reverses. 

Much  Evangeline  wept  at  the  tale,   and  to  know  that 
another 

Hapless  heart  like  her  own  had  loved  and  had  been  disap 
pointed. 

Moved  to  the  depths  of  her  soul  by  pity  and  woman's  com 
passion, 


84  EVANGELINE. 

t 

Yet  in  her  sorrow  pleased  that  one  who  had  suffered  was 

near  her, 

She  in  turn  related  her  love  and  all  its  disasters. 
Mute  with  wonder  the  Shawnee  sat,  and  when  she  had 

ended 

Still  was  mute;  but  at  length,  as  if  a  mysterious  horror 
Passed  through  her  brain,  she  spake,  and  repeated  the  tale 

of  the  Mowis; 
Mowis,  the  bridegroom  of  snow,  who  won  and  wedded  a 

maiden, 
But,  when  the  morning  came,  arose  and  passed  from  the 

wigwam, 

Fading  and  melting  away  and  dissolving  into  the  sunshine, 
Till  she  beheld  him  no  more,  though  she  followed  far  into 

the  forest, 
Then,   in  those  sweet,  low  tones,   that  seem  like  a  weird 

incantation, 
Told  she  the  tale  of  the  fair  Lilinau,  who  was  wooed  by  a 

phantom, 
That,  through  the  pines  o'er  her  father's  lodge,  in  the  hush 

of  the  twilight, 
Breathed  like  the  evening  wind,  and  whispered  love  to  the 

maiden, 
Till  she  followed  his  green  and  waving  plume  through  the 

forest. 

And  never  more  returned,  nor  was  seen  again  by  her  people. 
Silent    with    wonder    and    strange    surprise     Evangeline 

listened 
To  the  soft  flow  of  her  magical  words,  till  the  region  around 

her 
Seemed  like  enchanted  ground,  and  her  swarthy  guest  the 

enchantress. 

Slowly  over  the  tops  of  the  Ozark  Mountains  the  moon  rose, 
Lighting  the  little  tent,  and  with  a  mysterious  splendor 
Touching  the  somber  leaves,  and  embracing  and  filling  the 

woodland. 
With  a    delicious    sound  the  brook  rushed  by,  and  the 

branches 

Swayed  and  sighed  overhead  in  scarcely  audible  whispers. 
Filled  with  the  thoughts  of  love  was  Evangeline's  heart, 

but  a  secret, 

Subtile  sense  crept  in  of  pain  and  indefinite  terror. 
As  the  cold,  poisonous  snake  creeps  into  the  nest  of  the 

swallow. 


EVANGELINE. 


83 


It   was   no   earthly   fear.     A   breath   from   the   region  of 

spirits 
Seemed  to  float  in  the  air  of  night;  and  she  felt  for  a 

moment 
That,    like  the   Indian   maid,    she,    too,    was   pursuing  a 

phantom. 
And   with   this   thought   she  slept,  and  the  fear  and  the 

phantom  had  vanished. 


'  Under  a  towering  oak,  that  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  village, 
Knelt  the  Black  Robe  chief  with  his  children." 


Early  upon  the  morrow  the  march  was  resumed;  and  the 
Shawnee 

Said,  as  they  journeyed  along — "On  the  westsrn  slope  of 
these  mountains 

in  his  little  village  the  Black  Robe  chief  of  the  Mis 
sion. 


86  EVANGELINE. 

Much  lie  teaches  the  people,  and  tells  them  of  Mary  and 
Jesus; 

Loud  laugh  their  hearts  with  joy,  and  weep  with  pain,  as 
they  hear  him." 

Then,  with  a  sudden  and  secret  emotion,  Evangeline  an 
swered — 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  Mission,  for  there  good  tidings  await 
us!" 

Thither  they  turned  their  steeds;  and  behind  a  spur  of  the 
mountains, 

Just  as  the  sun  went  down,  they  heard  a  murmur  of 
voices, 

And  in  a  meadow  green  and  broad,  by  the  bank  of  a  river, 

Saw  the  tents  of  the  Christians,  the  tents  of  the  Jesuit 
Mission. 

Under  a  towering  oak,  that  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  vil 
lage, 

Knelt  the  Black  Robe  chief  with  his  children.  A  crucifix 
fastened 

High  on  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  overshadowed  by  grape 
vines, 

Looked  with  its  agonized  face  on  the  multitude  kneeling 
beneath  it. 

This  was  their  rural  chapel.  Aloft,  through  the  intricate 
arches 

Of  its  aerial  roof,  arose  the  chant  of  their  vespers, 

Mingling  its  notes  with  the  soft  susurrus  and  sighs  of  the 
branches. 

Silent,  with  heads  uncovered,  the  travelers,  nearer  ap 
proaching. 

Knelt  on  the  swarded  floor,  and  joined  in  the  evening  de 
votions. 

But  when  the  service  was  done,  and  the  benediction  had 
fallen 

Forth  from  the  hands  of  the  priest,  like  seed  from  the 
hands  of  the  sower, 

Slowly  the  reverend  man  advanced  to  the  strangers,  and 
bade  them 

Welcome;  and  when  they  replied,  he  smiled  with  benig 
nant  expression, 

Hearing  the  homelike  sounds  of  his  mother  tongu«  in  the 
forest, 

And  with  words  of  kindness  conducted  them  into  his 
wigwam. 


EVANGELINE.  87 

There  upon  mats  and  skins  they  reposed,  and  on  cakes  of 
the  maize-ear 

Feasted,  and  slaked  their  thirst  from  the  water-gourd  of 
the  teacher. 

Soon  was  their  story  told;  and  the  priest  with  solemnity 
answered: 

"  Not  six  suns  have  risen  and  set  since  Gabriel,  seated 

On  this  mat  by  rny  side,  where  now  the  maiden  reposes, 

Told  me  this  same  sad  tale;  then  arose  and  continued  his 
journey!" 

Soft  was  the  voice  of  the  priest,  and  he  spake  with  an  ac 
cent  of  kindness; 

But  on  Evangeline's  heart  fell  his  words  as  in  winter  the 
snow-flakes 

Fall  into  some  lone  nest  from  which  the  birds  have  de 
parted. 

"Far  to  the  north  he  has  gone,"  continued  the  priest;  "but 
in  autumn 

When  the  chase  is  done,  will  return  again  to  the  Mission." 

Then  Evangeline  said,  and  her  voice  was  meek  and  sub 
missive — 

"Let  me  remain  with  "thee,  for  my  soul  is  sad  and 
afflicted." 

So  seemed  it  wise  and  well  unto  all;  and  betimes  on  the 
morrow, 

Mounting  his  Mexican  steed,  with  his  Indian  guides  and 
companions, 

Homeward  Basil  returned,  and  Evangeline  stayed  at  the 
Mission; 

Slowly,  slowly,  slowly  the  days  succeeded  each  other — 
Days  and  weeks  and  months;  and  the  fields  of   maize  that 

were  springing 
Green  from   the  ground   when  a   stranger  she  came,  now 

waving  above  her, 
Lifted  their  slender   shafts,  with  leaves  interlacing,  and 

forming 
Cloisters  for  mendicant   crows   and  granaries   pillaged  by 

squirrels. 
Then  in  the  golden  weather  the  maize  was  husked,  and  the 

maidens 

Bl  usned  at  each  blood-red  ear,  for  that  betokened  a  lover, 
But  at  the  crooked  laughed,  and  called   it  a  thief  in  the 

corn-field. 


t8  EVANGELINE. 

Even  the  blood-red  ear  to  Evangeline  brought  not  her  lover. 

•* Patience!"  the  priest  would  say;  "have  faith,  and  thy 
prayer  will  be  answered! 

£ook  at  this  delicate  plant  that  lifts  its  head  from  the 
meadow, 

See  how  its  leaves  all  point  to  the  north,  as  true  as  the 
magnet; 

It  is  the  compass-flower,  that  the  finger  of  God  has  sus 
pended 

Here  on  its  fragile  stock,  to  direct  the  traveler's  journey 

Over  the  sea-like,  pathless,  limitless  waste  of  the  desert. 

Such  in  the  soul  of  man  is  faith.  The  blossoms  of  pas 
sion, 

Gay  and  luxuriant  flowers,  are  brighter  and  fuller  of 
fragrance, 

But  they  beguile  us,  and  lead  us  astray,  and  their  odor  is 
deadly. 

Only  this  humble  plant  can  guide  us  here,  and  hereafter 

Crown  us  with  asphodel  flowers,  that  are  wet  with  the 
dews  of  nepenthe." 

So  came  the  autumn,  and  passed,  and  the  winter — yet  Ga 
briel  came  not; 

Blossomed  the  opening  spring,  and  the  notes  of  the  robin 
and  blue-bird 

Sounded  sweet  upon  wold  and  in  wood,  yet  Gabriel  came 
not. 

But  on  the  breath  of  the  summer  winds  a  rumor  was 
wafted 

Sweeter  than  song  of  bird,  or  hue  or  odor  of  blossom. 

Far  to  the  north  and  east,  it  said,   in  the   Michigan  forests. 

Gabriel  had  his  lodge  by  the  banks  of  the  Saginaw  river. 

And,  with  returning  guides,  that  sought  the  lakes  of  St. 
Lawrence, 

Saying  a  sad  farewell,  Evangeline  went  from  the  Mission. 

When  over  weary  ways,  by  long  and  perilous  marches, 

She  had  attained  at  length  the  depths  of  the  Michigan 
forests, 

Found  she  the  hunter's  lodge  deserted  and  fallen  to  ruin! 

Thus  did  the  long  sad  years  glide  on,  and  in  seasons  and 

places 

Divers  and  distant  far  was  seen  the  wandering  maiden, 
Now  in  the  tents  of  grace  of  the  meek  Moravian  Missions, 


EVANGELINE.  89 

Now  in  the  noisy  camps  and  the  battle-fields  of  the  army, 
Now  in  secluded  hamlets,  in  towns  and  populous  cities, 
Like  a  phantom  she  came,  and  passed  away  unremem- 

bered. 
Fair  was  she  and  young,  when   in  hope  began  the  long 

journey; 

Faded  was  she  and  old,  when  in  disappointment  it  ended. 
Each  succeeding  year  stole    something  away   from    her 

beauty. 
Leaving  behind  it,  broader  and  deeper,  the  gloom  and  the 

shadow. 
Then  there  appeared  and  spread  faint  streaks  of  gray  o'er 

her  forehead, 

Dawn  of  another  life,  that  broke  o'er  her  earthly  horizon, 
As  in  the  eastern  sky  the  first  faint  streaks  of  the  morning. 


00 


EVANOELINE. 


"  In  that  delightful  land  which  is  washed  by  the  Delaware's 
Guarding  in  sylvan  shades  the  name  of  Penn  the  apostle, 
Stands  on  the  banks  of  its  beautiful  stream  the  city  he  founded." 


V. 

In  that  delightful  land  which  is  washed  by  the  Delaware's 

waters, 

Guarding  in  sylvan  shades  the  name  of  Penn  the  apostle, 
Stands  on  the  banks  of  its  beautiful  stream  the  city  he 

founded. 
There  all  the  air  is  balm,  and  the  peach  is  the  emblem  of 

beauty, 
And  the  streets  still  re-echo  the  names  of  the  trees  of  the 

forest, 
As  if  they  fain  would  appease  the  Dryads  whose  haunts 

they  molested. 
There  from  the  troubled  sea  had  Evangeline  landed,  an 

exile, 

Finding  among  the    'nldren  of  Penn  a  home  and  a  country. 
There  old  Rene  Lebianc  had  died;  and  when  he  departed, 
Saw  at  his  side  only  one  of  all  his  hundred  descendants. 
Something  at  least  there  was  in  the  friendly  streets  of  the 

city, 
Something  that  spake  to  her  heart,  and  made  her  no  longer 

a  stranger: 


EVANGELINE. 


91 


And  her  ear  was  pleased  with  the  Thee  and  Thou  of  the 

CJuasers, 

For  it  recalled  the  past,  the  old  Acadian  country, 
Where  all  men  were  equal,  and  all  were  brothers  and 

sisters. 

So,  when  the  fruitless  search,  the  disappointed  endeavor, 
Ended,  to  recommence  no  more  upon  earth,  uncomplaining, 
Thither,  as  leaves  to  the  light,  were  turned  her  thoughts 

and  her  footsteps. 
As  from  a  mountain's  top  the  rainy  mists  of  the  morning 


1  Night  after  night,  when  the  world  was  ask-fji,  us  thy  watchman  repeated, 
Loud,  through  the  gusty  streets,  that  all  was  well  in  the  city, 
High  at  some  lonely  window  he  saw  the  light  of  her  taper." 


Roll  away,  and  afar  we  behold  the  landscape  below  us, 
Sun-illumined,  with  shining  rivers  and  cities  and  hamlets, 
So  fell  the  mists  from  her  mind,  and  she  saw  the  world 

far  below  her, 
Dark  no  longer,    but   all   illumined  with  love;  and  the 

pathway 
Which  she  had  climbed  so  far,  lying  smooth  and  fair  in 

the  distance. 


92  EVANOELINE. 

Gabriel   was  not  forgotten.     Within  her  heart  was  his 

image, 

Clothed  in  the  beauty  of  love  and  youth,  as  last  she  be 
held  him, 
Only  more  beautiful  made  by  his  deathlike  silence  and 

absence. 

Into  her  thoughts  of  him  time  entered  not,  for  it  was  not. 
Over  him  years  had  no  power;  he  was  not  changed,  but 

transfigured; 
He  had  become  to  her  heart  as  one  who  is  dead,  and  not 

absent; 

Patience  and  abnegation  of  self,  and  devotion  to  others, 
This  was  the  lesson  a  life  of  trial  and  sorrow  had  taught 

her. 

So  was  her  love  diffused,  but,  like  to  some  odorous  spices, 
Suffered  no  waste  nor  loss,  though  filling  the  air  with 

aroma. 

Other  hope  had  she  none,  nor  wish  in  life,  but  to  follow 
Meekly,  with  reverent  steps,  the  sacred  feet  of  her  Saviour. 
Thus  many  years  she  lived  as  a  Sister  of  Mercy;  frequenting 
Lonely  and  wretched  roofs  in  the  crowded  lanes  of  the  city. 
Where  distress  and  want  concealed  themselves  from  the 

sunlight, 

Where  disease  and  sorrow  in  garrets  languished  neglected. 
Night   after  night,    when  the   world   was  asleep,  as  the 

watchman  repeated 
Loud,  through  the  gusty  streets,  that  all  was  well  in  the 

city, 

High  at  some  lonely  window  he  saw  the  light  of  her  taper. 
Day  after  day,  in  the  gray  of  the  dawn,  as  slow  through  the 

suburbs 
Plodded  the  German  farmer,  with  flowers  and  fruits  for  the 

market, 
Met  he  that  meek,  pale  face,  returning  home  from   its 

watchings. 

Then  it  came  to  pass  that  a  pestilence  fell  on  the  city, 
Presaged  by  wondrous  signs,  and  mostly  by  flocks  of  wild 

pigeons, 
Darkening  the  sun  in  their  flight,  with  naught  in  their 

craws  but  an  acorn. 

And,  as  the  tides  of  the  sea  arise  in  the  month  of  September, 
Flooding  some  silver  streauu  till  it  spreads  to  a  lake  iii  a 

meadow, 


EVANQELINE. 


93 


So  death  flooded  life,  and  o'erflowing  its  natural  margin, 
Spread  to  a  brackish  lake,  the  silver  stream  of  existence. 
Wealth  had  no  power  to  bribe,  nor  beauty  to  charm,  the 

'  oppressor; 

But  all  perished  alike  beneath  the  scourge  of  his  anger — 
Only,  alas!  the  poor,  who  had  neither  friends  nor  attendants. 


'  Day  after  day,  in  the  gray  of  the  dawn,  as  slow  through  the  suburbs 
Plodded  the  German  fanner,  with  flowers  and  fruit  for  the  market, 
Met  he  that  meek,  pale  face,  returning  home  from  its  watchings." 


Crept  away  to  die  in  the  almshouse,  home  of  the  homeless 
Then  in  the  suburbs  it  stood,  in  the  midst  of  meadows  and 

woodlands — 
Now  the  city  surrounds  it;  but  still  with  its  gateway  and 

wicket 


94  EVANGELINE. 

Meek,  in  the  midst  of  splendor,  its  humble  walls  seem  to 

echo 
Softly  the  words  of  the  Lord — "  The  poor  ye  always  have 

with  you." 
Thither,  by  night  and  by  day,  came  the  Sister  of  Mercy. 

The  dying 
Looked  up  into  her  face,  and  thought,  indeed,  to  behold 

there 

Gleams  of  celestial  light  encircle  her  forehead  with  splendor, 
Such  as  the  artist  paints  o'er  the  brows   of   saints  and 

apostles, 

Or  such  as  hangs  by  night  o'er  a  city  seen  at  a  distance. 
Unto  their  eyes  it  seemed  the  lamps  of  the  city  celestial, 
Into  whose  shining  gates  ere  long  their  spirits  would  enter. 

Thus,  on  a  Sabbath  morn,  through  the  streets,  deserted  and 

silent, 

Wending  her  quiet  way,  she  entered  the  door  of  the  alms- 
house. 
Sweet  on  the  summer  air  was  the  odor  of  flowers  in  the 

garden; 
And  she  paused  on  her  way  to  gather  the   fairest  among 

them, 
That  the  dying  once  more  might  rejoice  in  their  fragrance 

and  beauty. 
Then,  as  she  mounted  the  stairs  to  the  corridors,  cooled  by 

the  east  wind, 
Distant  and  soft  on  her  ear  fell  the  chimes  from  the  belfry 

of  Christ  Church, 
While,  intermingled  with  these,  across  the  meadows  were 

wafted 
Sounds  of  psalms,  that  were  sung  by  the   Swedes   in  their 

church  at  Wicaco. 
Soft  as  descending  wings  fell  the  calm  of  the  hour  on  her 

spirit; 
Something   within   her   said — "At   length    thy   trials  are 

ended;" 
And,  with  a  light  in   her  looks,  she  entered  the  chambers 

of  sickness. 

Noiselessly  moved  about  the  assiduous,  careful  attendants, 
Moistening  the  feverish  lip,   and   the  aching  brow,  and  in 

silence 
Closing  the  sightless  eyes  of  the  dead,  and  concealing  theii 

faces, 


EVANGELINE.  96 

When;  on  their  pallets  they  lay,  like  drifts  of  snow  by  the 
roadside. 

Many  a  languid  head,  upraised  as  Evangeline  entered, 

Turned  on  its  pillow  of  pain  to  gaze  while  she  passed,  for 
her  presence 

Fell  on  their  hearts  like  a  ray  of  the  sun  on  the  walls"  of  a 
prison. 

And,  as  she  looked  around,  she  saw  how  Death,  the  con 
soler, 

Laying  his  hand  upon  many  a  heart,  had  healed  it  for  ever 

Many  familiar  forms  had  disappeared  in  the  night-time; 

Vacant  their  places  were,  or  filled  already  by  strangers. 


"  Through  the  hush  that  succeeded 

Whispered  a  pentle  voice,  in  accents  tender  anil  saint-like, 
'  Gabriel !  O  my  beloved! '  ajid  died  away  into  silence." 


Suddenly,  as  if  arrested  by  fear  or  a  feeling  of  wonder, 
Still   she   stood,    with   her   colorless   lips   apart,    while  a 

shudder 
Ran   through    her    frame,  and,    forgotten,   the   flowerets 

dropped  from  her.  fingers, 
And  from  her  eyes  and  cheeks  the  light  and  bloom  of  the 

morning. 
Then  there   escaped  from   her  lips  a  cry  of  such  terrible 

anguish, 
That  the  dying  heard  it,  and  started  up  from  their  pillows. 


96  EVANGELINE. 

On  the  pallet  before  her  was  stretched  the  form  of  an  old 

man. 
Long,  and  thin,  and  gray  were  the  locks  that  shaded  his 

temples; 

But,  as  he  lay  in  the  morning  light,  his  face  for  a  moment 
Seemed  to  assume    once    more  the   forms  of  its    earlier 

manhood ; 
So  are  wont  to  be  changed  the  faces  of  those  who  are 

dying. 

Hot  and  red  on  his  lips  still  burned  the  flush  of  the  fever, 
As  if  life,  like  the  Hebrew,  with  blood  had  besprinkled  its 

portals, 

That  the  Angel  of  Death  might  see  the  sign,  and  pass  over, 
Motionless,   senseless,   dying,    he   lay,  and  his    spirit  ex 
hausted 

Seemed  to  be  sinking  down  to  infinite  depths  in  the  dark 
ness, 
Darkness  of    slumber  and    death,   for    ever  sinking  and 

sinking. 
Then  through  those  realms  of  shade,  in  multiplied  reverb. 

erations, 
Heard  he  that   cry   of  pain,  and   through   the  hush  that 

succeeded 

Whispered  a  gentle  voice,  in  accents  tender  and  saint-like, 
"Gabriel!     0  my  beloved!"  and  died  away  into  silence. 
Then  he  beheld,    in  a  dream,   once   more  the   home  of  his 

childhood; 

Green  Acadian  meadows,  with  sylvan  rivers  among  them, 
Village,  and  mountain,  and  woodlands;  and,  walking  under 

their  shadow, 

As  in  the  days  of  her  youth,  Evangeline  rose  in  his  vision. 
Tears  came  into   his  eyes;  and  as   slowly   he   lifted   his 

eyelids, 
Vanished  the  vision  away,  but  Evangeline  knelt  by  his 

bedside. 
Vainly  he  strove  to  whisper  her  name,  for  the  accents  uu- 

uttered 
Died  on  his  lips,  and  their  motion  revealed  what  his  tongue 

would  have  spoken. 
Vainly  he  strove  to  rise;  and  Evangeline,  kneeling  beside 

him, 

Kissed  his  dying  lips,  and  laid  his  head  on  her  bosom. 
Sweet  was  the  light  of  his  eyes;  but  it  suddenly  sank  into 

darkness, 


EVANGELINE. 


97 


As  when  a,  lamp  is   blown  out  by  a   gust  of  wind  at  a  case 

uient. 

All  was  ended  now,  the  hope,  and  the  fear,  and  the  sorrow, 
All  the  aching  of  heart,  the  restless,  unsatisfied  longing, 
All  the  dull,  deep  pain,  and  constant   anguish  of  patience! 
And,  as  she  pressed  once   more  the   lifeless  head  to  her 

bosom, 
Meekly  she  bowed  her  own, 'and  murmured,  "Father,  1 

thank  theel" 


'  Side  by  side,  in  their  nameless  graves,  the  lovers  are  sleeping, 
Under  the  humble  walls  of  the  little  Catholic  churchyard, 
In  the  heart  of  the  city." 


STILL  stands  the  forest  primeval;  but  far  away  from  its 

shadow, 
Side   by  side,    in  their  nameless  graves,   the  lovers  are 

sleeping. 

Under  the   humble   walls  of   the   little  Catholic  church 
yard, 

In  the  heart  of  the  city,  they  lie,  unknown  and  unnoticed, 
Daily  the  tides  of  life  go  ebbing  and  flowing  beside  them, 
Thousands  of  throbbing  hearts,  where  theirs  are  at  rest 
&nd  for  ever, 


4$  EVANGELINE. 

Thousands  of  achiug  brains,  where  theirs  no  longer  are 

busy. 
Thousands  of  toiling  hands,  where  theirs  have  ceased  from 

their  labors, 
Thousands  of  weary  feet,    where   theirs   have   completed 

their  journey! 
Still  stands  the  forest  primeval;  but  under  the  shade  of  its 

branches 

Dwells  another  race,  with  other  customs  and  language. 
Only  along  the  shore  of  the  mournf  il  and  misty  Atlantic 
Linger  a  few  Acadian  peasants,  whose  fathers  from  exile 
Wandered  back  to  their  native  land  to  die  in  its  bosom, 
In  the  fisherman's  cot  the  wheel  and  the  loom  are  still  busy; 
Maidens  still  wear  their  Norman  caps  and  their  kittles  of 

homespun, 

And  by  the  evening  fire  repeat  Evangeline's  story, 
While  from  its  rocky  caverns  the  deep- voiced,  neighboring 

ocean 
Speaks,  and  in  accents  disconsolate  answers  the  wail  of  thr 

forest. 


Maidens  still  wear  their  Norman  caps  and  their  kirtles  of  homefpnc 
And  by  the  evening  fire  reix>at  Kvanjrrlinc'K  story." 


THE  END. 


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405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


JU 


UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
LIBRARY 


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3  1158009022608 


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